Cold Remembrance
by GoodServedCold
Summary: AU!Norway's and Liechtenstein's POV: A sickness spread through out the world, a sickness that gives people a limitless of depression which leads to death and lost of thoughts. 'Guide' are chosen to cure these people by erasing their memories.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**Title:** Cold Remembrance

**Genre:** Drama/Humor/Romance

**Rating:** K

**Pairings: **Norway x Liechtenstein

**Summary:** A sickness spread after the world war, a sickness which eat the people's happiness and force them to take their own lives. Millions have already fallen and its getting out of hand. The Dolor is a condition that slowly devour your sanity. The only cure of this sickness is to erase their tragic memories like it never happened. When The Dolor emerge out to the surface, few people gained special abilities who can manipulate memories and even deletes them, Norway is one of those people and they are called. Guides.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

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><p><strong>Cold Remembrance<strong>

...stories have two great truths: first, they begin in many ways that are all, more or less, the same. Second, they all have an end.

Fortunately, all great truths are lies, so there's the stuff that happens in between.

But all stories must have a beginning; this story begins with me snapping awake to the rhythmic clickety-clack of the trolley.

I felt like I'd been asleep for a long time. My mind swirled with the same veil of fog that my eyes were trying in vain to blink away.

So I shrugged, and looked out the window.

I saw streets and storefronts and torn blankets of snow draping chimney tops - the sights and sounds of the town I called home - fitting by like the scattered fragments of a dream.

No. Scattered _toys _cast aside by some less-than-charitable hand. That was more like it.

And who, I wondered idly, would stoop to pick them up and put them back in their places?

A fitting reverie for a town so small and so white-encrusted that it might as well have been a movie set.

There was a church on Fifth Street, at the very center of town. Its steeple jutted high up, toward low and heavy clouds laden with snow. On that steeple was a clock whose hands were stopped at three o' clock.

Stuck in frozen time. That was the air this town gave off, framed by the stilled hands of the only prominent clock within city limits. And it seemed to me that, actually, it was not the clock but the town itself that was out of order. It made things a lot easier to accept, if you thought about them that way.

Yeah, nothing strange about that at all.

The trolley glided to a gentle halt, its brakes shuddering like the mincing footfalls of a woman with something infinitely fragile and precious in her arms. The doors folded open. The cabin inhaled. The winds skirled at my feet.

I shivered at the cold, then stood up. My gray coat was draped on the seat next to me; I reached for it and put it on in one smooth motion. The station was just about abandoned when I stepped off.

I strolled slowly through familiar streets. Here and there, I saw: storefronts. Close-packed houses. Flowers blooming in frozen gardens. Blissful ignorance.

Nine short blocks from the station, I turned right at the intersection. The road turned upward at my feet as if in response. And from atop the hill, a careworn edifice of wind-blasted stone and pocket mortar glared down at me.

So that was where I was headed. Probably.

With my every step, the buildings grew sparser and sparser, as if they were afraid of my destination's long shadow. Soon enough, even the cobblestones had lost their courage and fled, leaving me to face a grove of trees by myself. No more paved roads from this point on, then. I could feel the soft loam clinging to my shoes with every footfall.

I stopped at a stone wall with an iron gate; both it and the building had seen better days. And when the freezing winds whipped through fallen brick and rusted metal, the entire place could be heard to scream.

The gate shuddered when the air tore at its broken hinges. Soon, it would fall, unto earth and dreamless slumber. When. Not if. Just a matter of time.

I had just pushed my way past the complaining scrap of iron when snow started whispering from the ashen sky.

There was someone standing at the doorway.

A young girl, if my eyes did not deceive me.

She was silent and prim, her straight back dusted by the wavering snow. She turned to face me as I drew near. She'd probably heard my approach. I got my first glimpse at her wan face, past the gauzy while veil of cold that fell from the sky.

I sighed inwardly and fished my hands out of my pockets.

"….Hello there." The girl just blinked slowly in surprise. "You are welcome here… No one will hurt you… So come, dry your tears…" But she did no such thing. She just kept staring up at me, tear after tear carving harsh paths down her soft pale face.

"My name is Norway. I'll make sure you get settled in, so be at ease…. Oh, and should you wish to call me by some other name, go right ahead and do so. I won't mind… So, my honored Guest, if I may ask – what is your name?" This was all strictly by the book. Well, it was until I asked her name.

She shut her eyes tight and began to wipe her face clean. Her motions were clumsy and halting. A brave gesture, although it did not at all stop the flow of tears from her eyes.

"Liechtenstein…"

"…Huh?"

"My name… Liechtenstein…" Her voice was high and warm, even as it quavered in cold and shock. "I see. Very well, Liechtenstein, right this way, please. It's too cold to be standing around outside, after all…"

"…Okay…" She nodded, and then she did the most astonishing thing: she came close, stood on tip-toe, and with such small, small hands began brushing the snow off my shoulders.

Such a good girl. She left me no choice but to do well for her sake.

We walked into the old building side-by-side.

And that is how our story really begins.


	2. Chapter 2: Little Li

"The world shall groan with tears untold / Tomorrow's wing shall ne'er unfold."

You know how they say that the songs of an age supposedly embody the spirits of its inhabitants? Well, such were the songs of _our _age. And for good reason: we'd seen no end to earthy tragedy. Even people in the prime of their youth were offing themselves in despair. "Suicide" had become by far the leading cause of all-ages mortality worldwide. And the phenomenon swept the globe; people began to call it by a name. The medical community scoffed at first, hemmed and hawed, complained about clinical depression and diagnosis criteria and something useless called the DSM-V, and then finally gave in. That was years ago.

By the present day, the term "The Dolor" was firmly established in the medical lexicon, just as the term "The Plague" had been in ages past. Our government, of course, mobilized every resource it could in order to study and hopefully counteract The Dolor. They established this town, for instance. And because they established this town, I was able to make a living here, serving as a… Guide… of sorts for newcomers.

Specifically, I made sure they got settled in, and as I did so I helped them forget – one by one – the horrors their eyes had seen.

Yes, the town's – and _my _only duty…

…was to sever the ties of heartbreak and isolation that bound our Guests, stained their souls, filled them with Dolor. This was, after all, the so-called city where memories come to die. And I was, after all, a so-called Psychedelic.

Psychedelic. That word bears a little explaining. As millions perished in the throes of The Dolor, the medical community took its sweet time to pronounce a consensus that even a five-year-old would have found obvious. Namely, that the etiology of The Dolor was this crushing feeling of sadness and helplessness that left people with no other option but self-slaughter.

A special conference of the top psychiatrists in the world was convened; after days of deliberation, they decided to make up some fancy names that meant nothing. They reasoned that The Dolor ate away at the afflicted's mind the way that rust ate away at metal. "Psyche Corrosion", they called it.

Talk about fiddling away while Rome burns. Oh, there's one problem with that analogy. See, Nero didn't fiddle at all. He opened his palaces to the displaced, and wrote far stricter fire codes posthaste. Whereas these psychiatrist – that's all they ever did. Fiddle away. While we all died.

Anyway, patients who had failed all other methods of therapy were assigned to what was known as the Psychedelic Protocol – they were brought to this town, and it was here that we Psychedelic cut away the ties binding our Guests to the memories that had so corroded their psyches. The thing was – not just anyone could become Psychedelic. One had to have certain qualities and inborn talents before one could even embark on the path. To this day, I will never know whether I was blessed or cursed when it turned out that I had just those qualities, just those talents.

People often pulled us aside, told us how sweet and seemly it was for us to do our duty for our country, how much they envied us, idiotic patriotic drivel like that. None of it particularly impressed me. How do you explain? How _can_ you explain to someone who will _never_ understand that your every working day is a long fall into rapture and damnation?

My new Guest was off in the corner, staring away with eyes downcast at empty space as if there were some way to trace the intricate patterns of her bewilderment in the air between us. This wasn't surprise at all. Every Guest I'd ever met had reacted this way upon arrival in town. They all acclimatized in short order, of course. Rather, they were _made_ to, in one way or another.

But Liechtenstein here… was still crying.

This was bad. Really bad. I'd never seen a Guest in such pitiful shape before.

Slowly, as if my gaze were a burden too heavy for her slight shoulders to bear, she lifted her head and locked eyes with me. Then she murmured, "…. Don't mind me.. I'll be fine." And sure enough – there were still tears flowing from her eyes, but her facial expression was otherwise totally neutral. Not sad, but definitely not happy either.

"I've had Guests say that to me before. Usually, it's because they have a sorrow so deep that they themselves are numb to the fact."

"Oh, really."

"Perhaps…. But I agree with you; you'll be fine. Relax, you're my Guest. We'll have you better in no time at all, I'm sure."

Liechtenstein just quirked her lips vaguely in response. So she doubted that I could do anything for her. I wondered how I could even turn her cynicism into faith. But I kept my mouth shut. It didn't matter. Whether she believed in me or not, I had a job to do. Right. I was her Guide. Now wasn't that a hoot? The hospitality industry really didn't suit me one bit.

I'd have been much happier to stay at home doing nothing all day.

"All right, Liechtenstein, go ahead and take your luggage up to your room. I'll be down here making dinner if you need anything. I take it you'll be hungry at some point." Liechtenstein nodded silently, and then walked upstairs with her bags.

I gave the place my standard once-over. Old place, all right. Fortunately, it was far better-build than I'd originally thought. Unfortunately, it was far more cramped than I'd originally thought, as well. I stood in the kitchen and wondered what to make for dinner.

The refrigerator was well-stocked. So they'd made sure of that. Not that it really mattered. If supplied ran low, I could always go buy more. This was all being paid for by the higher-ups anyway. So, what would Liechtenstein want to eat? This, too, happened to be part of the job. But that didn't mean that I had to like it. I mean, what a joke! Cooking wasn't exactly my forte, and I hated picking up after someone else. If it weren't for the fact that I was a Psychedelic, I would never have had to put up with this nonsense.

Well, stew was pretty safe choice, right?

Right, nothing to it. I opened the refrigerator, plucked out some meat and vegetables, and got down to work. I'd just started boiling some water when I heard Liechtenstein come back downstairs. I turned around, and… well, you know the face a normal person makes when confronted with that awful tangle of noise and assorted animal entrails called Christian Death Metal? That was the exact expression she had plastered to her face.

"Something the matter?"

"N-No… Not at all." Great, now she was blushing….. and what was I supposed to do, read her mind?

"You know, if there's something on your mind, I'd rather you told me. See, when _you_ get worried, _I_ get worried."

"….I'm not worried about anything."

"I see." So much for that approach. Well, whatever. I had better things to do. Like make this stew. "Anything you don't like to eat?"

"None. Don't care for some things."

"..um, so in other words, there _are_ some things you don't like to eat?"

"…"

Great. Man, I wasn't getting _anywhere_ today, was I?

"You're not very nice."

"I get that a lot. So what don't you eat?"

"….carrots."

"Carrots, eh?" That was pretty cute, actually. In its own way. A half-smile rose unbidden to my lips, but then Liechtenstein glared at me, and that was that. "Okay, fine, no carrots, then. Anything else?"

"No... Need anything?"

"Thank you, but I've got things under control. Just have a seat, relax. I'll have dinner ready soon." I couldn't very well have my Guest cook, after all. Liechtenstein shot me a disappointed look, but then shrugged and walked out of the kitchen.

Okay, all I had to do now was to let the stew simmer on its own for a while. So I poked my head out of the kitchen to check up on how my Guest was doing. Or not. She was just sitting on a chair, so motionless that she might have been mistaken for a wax doll. Her hands were clasped neatly on her lap, and her eyes were sharp and focused straight ahead.

So she'd been like this the entire time? Didn't that get really tiring after a while? "Um, Liechtenstein? There's no need to be so tense. Come, loosen up. You're one of us now." Until her Psyche Corrosion disappeared, that was. I couldn't really say when that would happen, though. Could be a week from today, could be three months from today. I'd heard that some exceptional cases even took years.

"Not tense. It's just…" Before she could finish her sentence, her belly made an unhappy empty sound.

This explained everything. Kind of.

"I take it you're hungry." Liechtenstein just blushed and glared at me. She must have seen how hard I was trying to contain myself. But the thing was - no matter what my instincts told me, I couldn't just laugh. There were tears in her eyes again. Whether that was due to The Dolor, embarrassment, or chagrin was immaterial. I wasn't about to make a girl cry. "Wait just a bit longer, okay? I've got a delicious stew coming right up."

But by this time, Lichtenstein was already staring pointedly out the window, ignoring me.

It was a simple meal – stew, bread, salad – but Lichtenstein was just wolfing it down as if it were the most delicious meal she'd ever had. I did have to wonder, though – did famous chefs get to feel this warm fuzzy feeling deep down inside all the time? I stopped eating altogether and focused on Lichtenstein. Maybe it was a trick of light, but I could have sworn that she almost looked happy. First time I'd seen her that way in all the (short) time I'd known her…

"…stop staring. Hard to eat that way."

"Oh, sorry about that."

"Am I weird?"

"Huh?"

"Am I weird? Why do you keep staring at me?"

"Oh. Uh. No, you're not strange. I just kind of spaced out, that's all. Bad habit of mine… you certainly do eat a lot, that's all."

"…"

Oops.

I'd just told a girl that she 'ate a lot' …how was I gong to get out of this one?

"Nothingwrongwiththatatall! !" Right. _Real_ smooth. But Lichtenstein just nodded warmly and smiled. I felt a rush of relief and suspicion all at once. I was bad enough at social interactions as it was, but girls were headaches of a totally different magnitude. And this one…. Yeah.

By the end of dinner, Lichtenstein had just about lost her air of bewilderment, although I couldn't tell whether it was for real or just another brave front. Not that I was in much better shape; while I was pretty used to this job by now, the first couple of days with a new Guest were always a delicate phase.

Best to end the day early and get a good night's sleep, so we'd both be bright-eyes and bushy-tailed come the morrow. "Lichtenstein, I'll be doing dished down here, so why don't you go ahead and take a shower and go to bed? There should be a bathroom at the end of the corridor." I started to stand, but Lichtenstein just sat there and stared at me as if there was something she wanted to say but couldn't quite articulate. "Oh, right. You have my word that I won't peep. So go ahead."

"I-I'm not worried about that! ..its the room…"

"The room?"

"There's …only one bed."

…oh. So _this_ must have been why she was so uptight before dinner. Totally understandable, although that didn't stop me from sighing. I mean… all right, now what? Come to think of it, I'd never been assigned a female Guest before. They always made sure you got someone of the same sex.. well, at least up until now. What a headache.

Lichtenstein continued to stare at me, but there was something helpless lurking in her eyes now. It wouldn't be so hard to make that strong façade of hers crumble into dust now, if I wanted to. And, uh, I kind of wanted to. You know. As a joke. Or something.

"Shall we sleep together?"

"…!" she instantly flushed red as a beet. Her lips fluttered open and shut, open and shut, like those of a goldfish out of water. This continued for a while, and then she finally managed to stammer, "N-n-n-no thanks! I'll… just sleep on the floor!"

Great. Now she looked like she was going to cry again. "…That was a joke. There's a sofa in the living room, so I'll just sleep there. You go ahead and take the bed." After all, I wasn't about to make her sleep on the floor. The sofa looked nice and comfy, and it wasn't as if I particularly cared. I'd slept in far less comfortable places than that before I'd taken this job.

"You're taller than I am. You'll cramp. I'll take the sofa." Oh, great, she really _was_ a good girl. And a super stubborn one, to boot. Just what was I suppose to do with her?

"First of all, it's not bad for me. Second of all, even if it were, I wouldn't care, so there's no need for you to worry about it."

"But…"

"What, are we going to sleep together after all? I have no objections if that's what you want."

"Uh…." She flushed red as a beet again. Nothing to it; all I had to do was play this out, and she'd have to yield.

….at least, that's what I _thought_. Until she just sort of quietly… _nodded,_ that is.

….I wasn't prepared for this.

"Um, Lichtenstein? You don't just say okay to something like this. What are you going to do if I try something?"

"…and what are you going to do? Rape me?"

"No. But that's not the point! What if someone saw us, got the wrong idea, or something? Imagine the rumors…" I was sounding like some kind of preach old man now. So this was what I'd been reduced to. Just wonderful. What the hell was wrong with me today?

"You won't do anything to hurt me. I trust you." …she _what?_

"Anyway, look! You happen to be my Guest. So you take the bed, and I'll take the sofa. That's the rule. And so long as we're here, we can't break it." I hadn't wanted to play this card. I was supposed to be her Guide, not her overseer – I couldn't just order her around like this. But in the face of such stubbornness, I didn't think I had a choice.

She looked at me as if she wanted to make an objection, but then she slowly nodded. She stood up without a word after that and began walking towards the bathroom.

…oh, man. Now I was all worn out. I had almost finished washing the dishes when Lichtenstein suddenly reappeared in the kitchen. She'd apparently been there for a while watching me quietly, but it wasn't until I caught the faint intoxicating smell of floral shampoo wafting from her just-washed hair that I became aware of her presence. "Yes?"

"…n-no, its nothing… Good night… Norway.." There was the gentlest hint of a smile on her face as she turned heel and walked out of the kitchen. I stood still and listened for a long time after that, until I was sure that she'd tucked herself in and gone to sleep.

What a strange girl. Strange, but not bad at all.

Every tie I though of what a pain tomorrow was going to be, that bashful 'Good night' kept popping into my head. In the end, I couldn't help but to smile. So she'd left me with no choice but to do well for her sake. Again.


	3. Chapter 3: Coffee

The next morning, I was startled awake by an awful crashing sound.

…interesting. I'd never been woken up this way before. I allowed myself a deep sigh, and then I got up off the sofa. Liechtenstein's back was turned to me when I found her. So I said…

"…Good morning. An early riser, I see." And almost succeeded at suppressing a grin when she jumped in surprise.

"G-Good morning." But then I looked down, and the sight completely succeeded at wiping the smirk off my face. There was a familiar-looking kettle on the flood, and a spreading dark puddle that had to be the remnants of yesterday's stew. How did it come to this? "Um, uh, see. Stew for breakfast. Kettle boiled over. Went to take it off. Stuff burned. And, uh… uh…" Okay, so that explained a couple things: The peculiar smell, for one thing. And the uncharacteristic warmth of the house, for another. I looked over to te stove, and sure enough, it was lit and burning bright.

Then I had the following sequence of thoughts: (1) man, this is weird. (2) hmm, I certainly didn't build that fired; (3) so she must have; (4) man, this is weird.

Hmm, not bad at all, actually. Ever since I became a Psychedelic, I'd always lived alone. There was this stray kitten who'd invited herself into my life for a while, but obviously cats can't light stoves or build fires. And of course, she didn't stick around forever; one day I woke up, and she was gone. "….you didn't get scalded or anything, I see. That's a relief. I'm not mad at you or anything, so there's no need to apologize."

"…I'm so sorry!" …wait, didn't I just tell her _not _to apologize? After that, I started clearing the mess up, but Liechtenstein wasn't having and of that. Okay, fine, whatever. So I figured we'd do it together, but she wouldn't have any of _that_, either. So in the end, she stubbornly insisted on cleaning the mess up all by herself.

After the kitchen was all spic-and-span, we broke fast with some pastries.

"Let's head out once we're finished eating. Any particular place you want to go?" This was how the job worked: as her Guide, I would show her around town. And as she grew more and more comfortable with life here, the more opportunities I would have as her Psychedelic to erase the memories that had so corroded her psyche. But the thing was, I really didn't like doing any of this. Not that it mattered. Hell, it was my job.

I didn't have a choice in the matter. Oh, it wasn't as if I was bad at it; quite the contrary, I was quite efficient both as a Guide and as a Psychedelic. I'd had two years of rigorous training in both to thank for that. That was mandatory for licensure. And I'd passed with flying colors.

Really, the only reason I hated this part of my job was because I simply hated walking around outside. I mean, what was the point? "Up to you. You _are_ my Guide, yes?" Liechtenstein looked up from her glass of milk to briefly flit her eyes at me. I'd thought that she would say something like that, but still, that bothered the hell out of me. Now I really wanted to let out a sigh.

"All right, let's go. Best to take your coat with you. It's cold out, you know." Liechtenstein nodded, and then undraped her government-issue topcoat from her chair. We walked out the door and into our frozen town. She trailed me by a few paces.

The streets were deserted; in defiance of the daystar's wan advance the shadows beat long tattoos on the snow-choked eaves. There was a little under a thousand licensed Psychedelic here, and each of us had a Guest. Then there were governmental personnel. Oh yes, and the people who had special permission to set up businesses in town. Too few people. Too many ghosts. That was the problem with this place.

The Dolor was a pandemic. The waitlist for the Psychedelic Protocol ran into the hundreds of pages. There weren't enough of us to go around. Liechtenstein was gazing about at the storefronts and houses. What was it that she saw? All _I _could see was an awkward clot of brick and ice and ruin congealing out of slushy asphalt.

Now, as I continued to walk along, she stopped to look at something then started, then stopped to stare at something else entirely, then started again and so on. Naturally, quite a gap arose between us. I thought for a second about waiting and matching pace with her, but it was far more fun to just watch her antics. So I let her be.

"Norway. Where are we going?" She asked as she caught up to me, her feet thudding on the icy sidewalk and her breath panting short-lived clouds on the air about us.

"Hmm, let's see. How about some nice, delicious coffee? There's this place I know on Sixth Street, so let's take the trolley from here."

"….what?"

"You hear me right. Don't tell me you've never ridden one before?"

"…I haven't." That struck me as more than a little odd. Other than on foot, there was no other real method of transportation around here, and our trolley system was good anyway that no one really minded. The other cities of our country had public transit systems that were at least as well-developed as ours. That's how normal people got around. But Liechtenstein here had been chauffeured around for all her life, apparently. Her family must have been very rich, or very important, or both.

As I stopped to think about this, Liechtenstein took the opportunity to sprint past me, toward the station. So she could be this lively at times, eh? Fascinating. However, since her small figure was already receding into the horizon, I was going to have to cut my reverie short. A smile came to my lips unbidden. And I began to walk again.

We got off the trolley at the Sixth Street station, and headed toward our destination. Liechtenstein, of course, continued to make her frequent investigatory stops. But in this case, it was entirely understandable.

Our house was on Eighth Street. That end of town was mainly private residences. But Sixth… well, it was the closest thing we had to a shopping small around these parts. And Liechtenstein seemed intent on examining every single piece of merchandise in every single display window we encountered. Our destination, by the way, was not on Sixth proper, but on a back street a block or so away.

Its door was unadorned but for a nameplate that simply read, "AROMA".

As we opened the door and walked in, a chime ran out in, and soon thereafter so did a casual voice. "Welcome… hey, wait a second. Why, if it isn't Norway. Long time no see, man." I raised a hand in casual response. This proprietor here was on of the few acquaintances I had, you see. "Been out of town or somethin'? I haven't seen ya 'round these parts in for_ever_, ya know?"

"No, I've been here the whole time."

"What did you do, barricade yourself in your apartment? That's not good, yo. Oh, I got it. I got it. Don't tell me, you…." My acquaintance's flood of sarcasm suddenly went dry when he spotted the girl who was standing behind me. Actually, it was more like Liechtenstein was _hiding_ behind the folds of my greatcoat and scoping out the café's interior.

"….got a _girlfriend_?" He at least had the good grace to manage a strained smile. Liechtenstein, on the other hand, reacted with no grace at all. She startled, flushed red as a beet, and began to shake her head violently.

…. Fascinating.

I let her go for a bit longer, until I became distinctly afraid that she might very well shake her head clear off her shoulders. "This is my Guest."

"I, uh, see. Right. No way a cute little thing like this would shack up with an oddball like you, right. What was I _thinkin'_, man?"

This was insulting. But it also happened to be _true_. So I couldn't really say anything. I had Liechtenstein sit at the counter, and then took a seat next to her. "Welcome. The name's Prussia, and the honor's all mine. Don'tcha be forgettin' me now, okay, little lady?" He even managed a sly wink at Liechtenstein with that last sentence.

Smooth, man, real smooth. Too smooth for me to want to imitate, as a matter of fact. If you know what I mean.

Liechtenstein must have been as dumbstruck as I was, as she took a very long time to answer.

"Liechtenstein… Charmed. I think." She then bowed politely – _too_ politely, almost. A look of surprise flashed across Prussia's face, and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, man, have we got a _bona fide_ cutie here. Hey, Li'l Li, how old are ya?" Prussia asked as he leaned over the counter and grinned. I sighed inwardly. See, this was just like him – he was like a dog with a bone whenever something interested him. My polar opposite, in other words.

"Uh, um…." Liechtenstein, of course, was squirming uncomfortably in her seat by now. Obviously, this attention was unwanted. I sighed – outwardly this time around – and turned to face Prussia

"If you know what's good for you, you will stop harassing my Guest, please."

"I'm not harassing her at all, man! I'm just really interested in her, that's all! What's wrong with getting' to know her a bit, nice and personal, huh?"

"….."

"…fine, have it your way. Just stop glaring at me like that, man." Prussia shrugged vaguely, as if to say 'You're damn scary when you glare'. Liechtenstein, was sighing with relief now that her interrogation was over. "Didja come for lunch? It's a bit early for that, but hey, whatever. So, what'll it be?"

"Up to you. Hey, Liechtenstein, anything in particular you want to eat?"

"Um, no. No idea." That came as no surprise. There were no menus here at Café AROMA.

Prussia always just made whatever he felt like anyway, whether it was what the customer had ordered or not. So I guess it was my mistake to even ask the question in the first place.

"Dude, just what kind of a Guide _are _you, anyhow?" Prussia asked in surprise. Well, yeah, someone like him who smothered his Guests with all manner of unwanted attention _would _find me odd. "Hey, Li'l Li, want to be _my_ Guest from now on? I swear you'll have lots of fun!"

"….sorry. No." Prussia smiled wryly, as if to say "aww, that's too bad", and got busy behind the counter. Much to my surprised, Liechtenstein smiled back; so obviously, she was starting to warm up to him.

"A female Guest, though. Just what was Sweden thinkin' anyway?" Prussia wondered aloud as he began washing some vegetables. This Sweden, by the way, was the supervisor to whom several Guide – including Prussia and me – reported. Every single one of my assignments came from Sweden himself. Liechtenstein, for instance. "But isn't it official policy _not_ to allow male-female pairings? Man, if that's changed, when am I going to be up for one?"

"Most likely never. You? With a girl? We'd fear for her life…"

"Heh, you're probably right. After all, if I got to live with cutie like Li'l Li here, there's no tellin' _what_ might happen… That reminds me. Hey little lady, if Norway here does somethin' he shouldn't, you come runnin' to me, ya hear?"

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire indeed…" By this time, Prussia was slicing up some fillets of fish without having to even look down at what he was doing. Now, I wasn't so bad at cooking myself, but this guy really was a pro. And, like most other top-fight chefs, he was a real eccentric. Case in point: he would rather give up his Guiding status than his café here. Although he didn't have enough customers for this place to be viable. He'd probably be wildly successful if he ever opened a restaurant somewhere other than this godforsaken town. But he couldn't do that. And he had no inclination to, either. "Here ya go."

He put gargantuan fish-and-vegetable burgers grilled to perfection before each of us. Liechtenstein's looked almost as big as her head, but she bravely grabbed it with two hands and started digging in nonetheless. And she dug in with total gusto; the look of delight on her face was just _fascinating._ But she'd get mad if I stared at her for any longer, so I turned my attention to my own food.

Prussia watched us eating for a bit, and, once he was satisfied that _we _were satisfied, began grinding some coffee beans. By hand. I'd never seen him do it any other way. Soon, the aroma of fresh-ground coffee filled the air. It was so wonderful, in fact, that it made Liechtenstein look up for her burger.

"….coffee?" Wait a second. The way she said that, it was as if this was the first time she'd ever even encountered the stuff. Okay, the trolley thing I could explain away, but _this? _Curiouser and curiouser.

"Nah, not coffee at all… this, little lady, is what we call espresso. Although Norway - well, he can't get that through his skull. I tried, I tell ya…"

"Is that different from coffee?"

"Totally! The way the beans're roasted, how they're pressed, how much caffeine there is, how it tastes - all different. But a barbarian like Norway here would never understand that." Prussia pulled the lever on his espresso machine as he grumbled. Then, after a calculated pause, he pulled the lever again. No grumbles this time around. Two demitasses each filled with this wonderful-smelling dark liquid materialized before us soon thereafter. "Here ya go. Sweets for the sweet, Li – the café mocha's got your name on it. The usual café corretto for you, Norway."

Impeccable timing, as usual, since we'd both just finished our burgers. Liechtenstein picked up her demitasse gingerly, as if it were the most delicate thing in the world, and breathed in the rising vapors. "Smells good."

"Of course. This is my _speciality_, see?" Now, Prussia was always this way with the ladies, but today he seemed to be more effervescent than usual. Then again, Liechtenstein wasn't brushing him off the way the most women did, so maybe that was it…

"Oh, right. Norway. Got an assignment, and not from Sweden. Consultation requisition for a high-level Guide. Lucky you – you've been tapped."

"Tapped…? Wait. I'm currently with Guest. It's not safe or legal to double up like that."

"Come to think of it, yeah. I wonder – how come Sweden didn't tell me you were with Guest, anyway? He's usually real good about that…"

"Probably just a communications breakdown. Anyway, relay my regrets for me, will you?" Prussia froze, then shot me this half-sheepish, half-evil look. He and I had been colleagues for long enough that I _knew _what this meant: he'd screwed me over. "Ahaha, no choice, man. I, uh, had to agree. Let's just say… this new client is well-connected." While Prussia himself was a competent enough Guide, his true talent in that arena was as a Fence; he ran a black-market brokerage that matched Guides with prospective Guests outside of official channels.

It was all strictly hush-hush. None of us had said a thing about it to Sweden, and he hadn't asked. Our clients were diverse, but they all had one thing in common: they were rich and powerful. I had no idea where Prussia found the time to own and operate this fine and, uh, unprofitable restaurant, given everything else he did. I suppose that made him something of a workaholic.

"This case'll be a _cinch_, I tell ya! You'll be done in 24 hours, I guarantee it! No idea why they insisted on a Class Alpha Guide, really, ahaha!" It was a rare pleasure to see him groveling and begging like this. Except it wasn't that rare, and it was no pleasure at all this time around. I didn't care about this being technical violation of the law, so long as the pay was good. And it was, but right now Liechtenstein was my Guest. She had priority. That was something I _couldn't_ violete.

So I was going to have to say no.

But then, as if she could read my mind, Liechtenstein casually said, "Don't mind. Your call."

"But…"

"No worries. As you were." Her speech was as curt and to-the-point as usual, but there was something awfully ill at ease about the way she said it. What, did she dislike being pampered the way the rules dictated Guests must be? If that was so, she really _was _an odd one. Most Guests who came here were so starved for attention at first that they grew addicted to our care.

Wait, if Liechtenstein really did dislike being waited on hand and foot, was that why she was assigned to a Guide who wasn't particularly good on his Guests? That brought up all sorts of possibilities that I didn't want to think about. "All right, fine. But you owe me one. Oh, don't bother calling me at my apartment – I'm not there. I'm currently at the house on top of the hill at Eighth Street, so send your client there."

"I'll make it up to you somehow! Eighth, eh…? Isn't that kinda out in the boonies?"

"Nice and peaceful, actually. So much so that I've half a mind to move there permanently."

"…oh, get off it, man. You're not old enough to retire yet. Anyway, thanks a bunch for this. I'll have the client at your location by the day after tomorrow."

"Roger that."

The three of us killed some time together after that. Liechtenstein and I would have stayed longer, but it became obvious that the clouds were preparing to burst with snow. So we left in a hurry. Luckily, we found our way back to our place on Eighth Street before the first flakes began pouring from the sky.


	4. Chapter 4: Letting Go

Another day passed.

One thing had become painfully apparent by now: Liechtenstein was oblivious to the ways of the world. It was tempting to chalk it up to her being a stuck-up spoiled little princess, but, uh, she wasn't stuck-up, she wasn't spoiled, and she didn't put on airs like a princess.

Generally, the Guide is supposed to take care of all the housework. Liechtenstein, however, was actively helping out in anyway she could. She couldn't keep her hands to herself if she tried. And she wasn't trying anyhow. The weird thing was – it wasn't because she felt sorry about making me do all the work. The way her eyes glistened, the way she skipped and hopped about, it was obvious that she was having the time of her life.

There were some ways in which this came as a relief. I had not, for instance, been looking forward to the prospect of doing a girl's laundry. So obviously, I was more than happy to let Liechtenstein take care of it. Well, that is, other than the fact that she had no idea how to operate a washing machine. I can remember clearly how she stared at it the first time around, tried to figure it out for herself. After a long time indeed, she came running to me, defeated.

When I told her which buttons to press, her eyes lit up, and off she went. Trial. Error. Trial again. Success. Such were the patterns of that day.

Now it was around time for this other Guest to arrive.

I hadn't been able to take Liechtenstein out anywhere yesterday, just in case Prussia might need to get ahold of me. I'd probably be stuck here today too. After all, if I really only had one day with this Guest, finding and obliterating his Psyche Corrosion was going to be priority number one.

Now, I'd expected that Liechtenstein would be bored out of her mind, but she never had a word of displeasure for me. In fact, she seemed to be _enjoying _herself, judging from the spring in her step and the twinkle in her eye. Every so often, though, she would come to me with loneliness and loss written all over her face, and she would stay by my side in silence for hours.

If it were not for these times, it would have been almost impossible to believe that she was afflicted with The Dolor at all. I heard someone knocking on our door as I was cleaning up after breakfast. I immediately abandoned my dishwashing and rushed to answer, but by the time I rounded the corner to the foyer, he'd already started knocking again. When I opened the door, I was surprised to be greeted by a face that was much lower to the ground that I had expected.

"Uh, um…I, uh, referred… I have an appointment with Mr. Norway, the Guide… is he here?"

"He happens to be me."

"Wha-? Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It's just that you're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."

A lot younger, eh? That was _my_ line. Prussia, man, you're killing me here. You didn't tell me you were starting a _babysitting _service. I mean, he was younger than Liechtenstein, even. A lot younger. When Prussia had told me that this client was well-connected, I'd assumed that he was talking about a governmental official or a captain of industry, not this.

"Um, my name is Sealand. Nice to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is mine. Please come on in, then, Sealand."

Huh? Well-dressed, and with a haughty manner of speech, to boot. So I was definitely dealing with a rich kid, then. Great.

When Sealand stepped into the living room, Liechtenstein almost dropped the plate she'd been washing and _stared. _Not surprising – she'd probably been expecting someone a lot older. And taller. After an uncomfortable moment, she whipped back to her dishes, squeezing her sponge so hard that suds frothed out onto the sink. Her surprise, however, was dwarfed by that of our new arrival.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-sorry!" He suddenly – and inexplicably – bowed his head in apology. Now, I had _no_ clue what was going on anymore. And, seeing as he was flushing beet red, I didn't want to know what was going on inside his head right now, either. So I sighed and hastened to explain the situation, but…

"Sealand, this is Liechtenstein…"

"Uh, oh, I, uh, I'm so sorry! I had no idea your, uh, lady friend was here! Uh, uh, give me a moment, I'll leave right away!"

"…" Sealand didn't even let me finish my sentence. At the very moment that he finished _his_ sentence, thought, Liechtenstein's fingers chose to go completely nerveless. The unfortunate thing was that she kind of had a plate in them at the time.

There was a crash, and much tinkling. White porcelain shards spread all over the kitchen floor. And now we had not just one, but _two _young people blushing so furiously that they might as well have been on the surface of the sun. I just wanted to bury my head in my hands and be done with this day.

"Liechtenstein happens to be my _Guest. _Just like you."

"…huh? Oh, uh, I see, right. I had no idea…"

"Well, hopefully you have one now." Sealand sank down onto a chair, as if his last words had drained all the strength out of him. "Oh, Liechtenstein, be careful not to get cut, there. Want some help?"

"N-no. Thanks. I'll be fine." That didn't make me worry any less about her. But now that she'd said she'd be fine, there wasn't much I could do. So instead, I turned to Sealand and began anew.

"As you already know, I am Norway. I will be your Guide for a short time. Should you wish to call me by any other name, go ahead and do so; I won't mind."

"Thank you, sir. Glad to be in capable hands."

"We'll see about that. Now, won't you tell me a little about your Psyche Corrosion? How did it start, do you remember?" Up until this point in their treatment, what I'd said to Liechtenstein and Sealand had not differed substantially. But Liechtenstein was a severe case, necessitating a long internment here. In her case, my only course of action was to chip away at her Psyche Corrosion slowly, over weeks and months. I had no choice – how could I, when my Guest was clearly numb to the depths of her own sorrow?

In comparison, Sealand's Dolor was only mild. Guests in his situation usually knew _exactly_ where their Psyche Corrosion was coming from, and could point me toward the source with relative ease. Then I could move in with surgical precision and cut the memories out cleanly. Quick and simple.

Sealand shot me a confused look, and then spoke hesitantly: "Psyche Corrision? No, um… actually, uh, I just want you to erase every last memory I have."

"….." He was joking, right? If he was, that was pretty funny. But the way he was looking at me, it was quite obvious that this was no joke at all.

I felt, rather than saw, Liechtenstein poking her head out of the kitchen. Obviously, she'd overheard everything. Obviously, she was _quite _intrigued by this turn of events. It wasn't entirely obvious whether or not she'd finished cleaning up the broken porcelain.

"So, um, you want me to erase, what, ten or eleven years of memory all at once, is that it?"

"Fifteen, if you please."

"My apologies, then. I'm afraid that's…"

"…impossible? Even for you, Dr. Norway, the Class Alpha Guide? I'd heard that Alphas were incredibly powerful… are you trying to tell me that even _you _have your limits? Pardon my asking, but are you even an Alpha at all?"

…he was really fixated on this Alpha thing, wasn't he? Or was he just trying to provoke me, trying to prove me into action by slandering my abilities? If he was, he was making a big mistake. I had no such pride in my profession… but then again…

"I do not recall ever having used the word, 'impossible'." I answered honestly. But this did not seem to make Sealand particularly happy; I could hear him muttering. "so you _can_ do it" with an almost dispirited air. I searched his face for a long time indeed before I said anything more. "Yes, I can. But some preparations are necessary. I think I'll be ready by nightfall. Can you wait that long?"

"Uh… oh, of course. I will wait…"

"All right. Then feel free to do whatever you like until then. If there's anything you need, just holler – I will be around."

"Yes, Sir." I left Sealand where he was and headed into the kitchen.

Liechtenstein looked a little concerned. "Totale erasure? Impossible. Right?"

"Who knows? I've never tried it before, but I think it can be done. Probably."

"Probably. Nice of you."

"We Guides do have some …interesting capabilities, you know. What, are you afraid?" Liechtenstein looked down at the floor for a moment. When she snapped her head up again, there was something akin to anger in her eyes.

"No way!" She turned heel and stormed out of the kitchen… my, my. So I'd made her mad, huh? For a long time after that, the three of us quietly waited for the passage of time. I sat on a stool in the kitchen, and watched Liechtenstein and Sealand. Liechtenstein was reading a book. Sealand was sitting a little apart from her and patiently waiting for nightfall. But this odd arrangement didn't go on for long – soon enough, Sealand turned to Liechtenstein and hesitantly broke the silence.

"Uh, um, if I may inquire, uh, what book are you reading there?"

"…_Psyche's Gatekeeper. _By Analye."

"…pardon me?" I couldn't help but suppress a smile at this. For such a haughty individual, Sealand certainly had no idea what he was – or wasn't – talking about. Then again, it was surprising that Liechtenstein would even know of, let alone read, this particular book.

"…_Psyche's Gatekeeper. _A book. Written by Analye."

"Oh, uh, right. Of course. Um, pray tell, what kind of book is … oh, dear me, a thousand apologies! I had no intention of being a bother to you." Liechtenstein smiled at this.

"No problem. Happy you asked. Shall I go on?" And Sealand blushed furiously in response. Not that I could really blame him – Liechtenstein was really cute when she smiled.

"O-of course! Please, by all means!" What an irony, I thought. A markedly blunted affect is reported in virtually every case of The Dolor, and yet my two Guests here don't seem to have that problem. At all.

"A treastise on Guides: the protocol for the systematic erasure of memories. The writer is a Guide himself."

"This Analye person? Really?"

"Really. Dr. Analye, Class Omega Guide. Or so it seems."

"C-class _Omega_? Wait, uh, I though they were an urban legend, a fairy tale, you know, uh…"

"They are quite real. Real and incredibly rare. One in a thousand. Or less." Actually, the proportion was even lower than that. There were perhaps ten known Class Omegas in the entire world at present. From Class Epsilon up to Class Alpha, there was a smooth, linear progression of ability. But Class Omegas? They were a different kind of beast altogether. To put it another way: without them, a true cure for The Dolor would be impossible. Even an Alpha like me could not permanently erase the memories of my Guests; I could only make them go away for a time. Sometimes that was a long time. But never forever.

I just held those memories at gunpoint, for as long as I was able. But a Class Omega could – and would – pull the trigger. All Guests left this town with holes in their heads. Whether this was accomplished through the tender mercy of self-slaughter or the cruel anointing of a Class Omega's touch – was it not all the same?

"Happy memories. Sad memories. All guarded by 'Psyche's Gatekeepter'. A steadfast warden. Won't let you in. Even if you want to forget. _Especially _if you want to forget. Guides are thieves. They trick Psyche's Gatekeeper. 'Emulation'. That's what they call it." And once the gate is open, a Guide could walk right in and take whatever he wanted. Come to think of it, that _did _sound an awful lot like a thief, didn't it? Fortunately, I didn't have to think much about such philosophical implications. I was just here to do my job.

"Child Guides have no power. They grow stronger with age. More _complex._ Stronger gates demand greater power. Why? Simple. Takes a crazy son of a gun to Emulate the complexities of a well-fortified gate."

"Um, and in English, uh, that means…?"

"The more powerful the Guide, the more bizarre he tends to be. An Alpha like Norway here will almost always be a royal pain in the neck… or so it is written."

….. As annoying as it was, it was all true. Even _I _knew what a hopeless eccentric I was.

"Oh… I think I understand now. Thank you for enlightening me. I salute your intelligence, Miss Liechtenstein."

"Flattering, but no. Had to reread it. A lot. Still don't get most of it." Actually, her summary was more or less correct, and in fact she'd been able to explain it all in her own words. She knew what she was talking about, obviously. She'd red into it quite deeply. Sealand was more correct than he knew – Liechtenstein was damn intelligent, all right.

"Truly, Miss Liechtenstein, I am envious. You see, I…"

"…just curious. You don't have to answer this. What do you plan on doing after your memories are erased?"

"Well, I, uh…"

"Want to wipe yourself away? Start clean? Is that it?"

"…that may well be." Sealand muttered as he nodded, weakly. But instead of pressing him, Liechtenstein simply waited, quietly, for his next words. She didn't have to wait for long. "I am not strong, nor am I intelligent. I cannot even converse smoothly with other people. I am a failure, without any recourse. Even were my mother and father to have any expectations of me, I would never in a million years be able to meet them. It would be better if I were dead. It would be better if I had never been born…"

"…your parents say that?"

"N-not, not at all! They would never say anything like that! They have always said that they love me, just the way I am. And that makes me very happy, but still… it pains me that they are forced to nurture me in that manner. I cannot forgive myself for my own lack of ability."

"…"

"….."

"Enviable…"

"…huh?"

"….that you have such loving parents."

"They truly are… and I truly appreciate all they've done for me."

"You want to throw that away? Are you really so sure?"

"…? Um, uh….." Liechtenstein met Sealand's bewilderment head-on with a vague, clouded smile. And then she said no more.

I got off my chair and walked into the living room. "It's time, Sealand. My preparations are complete. We can begin at your convenience."

"Huh? Oh, of course…"

"Very well. Final confirmation: you want me to erase all fifteen years of your past existence."

"Y-Yes sir."

"I will not, however, tamper with any memories that are necessary for your basic function. Like going to the bathroom, eating, things like that. I trust you understand why that is. But as for the rest… all your happiness. All your sorrow. All your love. All your hate. All your suffering. All your pain. All that is within you…"

"…."

"…will die."

"D-die?"

"Correct…"

He gulped loudly. His eyes were wide as saucers. I gazed back at him coldly. "The loving kindness of your parents, too, will die. Along with you."

"….." Now Sealand grew very pale, and started shivering. He struggled to gain control of himself for a while, and eventually managed to issue some noises that sounded vaguely like words from his quavering lips.

"…..um… uh… I, uh, think…."

"Changed your mind, have you?"

"…y-yes sir." He nodded slightly. Obviously, he was close to tears. I let out a sigh.

"…..I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that now."

"….wha-?"

"Sealand. To be honest, I initiated the treatment phase of the Guide Protocol a long time ago, when we first met."

"What? But…. How in the world…."

"Did I not tell you from the very beginning? All I had to do was look you straight in the eye to begin the process."

"No way… that means…."

"Yes, that you are slowly losing yourself as we speak. Impossible to say exactly how long it will take, but rest assured that your memories are withering away and dying, one by one…. So gently, in fact, that you yourself will never notice."

"It can't be….!" Tears began to flow from his eyes, as if some damn inside of him had burst at last. I stood there silently, waiting for his next move. "No….! No no no no no no no! I beg of you, give me my memories back!"

"….."

"Please! I'll do anything! Just give them back! Give my self back! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"…"

"I-I don't care anymore about the stuff I said before! I have to be myself… or else I really _would_ be better off dead!"

….Word failed him after that. He just wept and wept and wept. Liechtenstein and I had nothing to say, either. We just stood there, waiting for the flood of tears to end.


	5. Chapter 5: Farewell

**A/N: **I didn't expect to receive reviews. owo but thank you so much for those who read this FanFic and reviewed this one. Because of that I'm continuing this one until it finish. This Chapter is shorter than the rest. I will be making a longer one in the next Chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>We waited forever. Silence draped the room like virgin snow. Sealand looked exhausted. He stared up at me with eyes nearly as empty as my own.<p>

"..."

"..."

"….Mr. Norway. Thank you for everything. Now that I have had a chance to reflect upon it, I think I could have grown to like myself. But I was too stupid to see what was right before my eyes, and now it's all gone."

"…I hate having to say this to you— it feels too much like a sermon to me… but it occurs to me that it's a miracle in and of itself to be loved the way you were." Sealand nodded smoothly.

"Absolutely. Therefore, until all my memories are gone, I shall strive to get to know myself as well as I can. It's the most fitting kind of funeral I can think of."

"Certainly. You know, thought, your new self will probably be much the same. He'll probably worry about the same things, and he'll probably be loved the same way by your parents as you were. Or at lease, so I hope."

"…..That's so very kind of you, Norway…"

"Not at all. Just doing my job. Besides, you are about to become very mad at me."

"I assure you that I am not angry with you at all, sir."

"No, but you _will_ be." Suddenly, it was I who could not bear to look Sealand in the eye, not the other way around... Great, now what? Why the hell did I do that? "Uhm.. Sealand?"

"Yes sir?"

"Um, well, you see, uh..."

"...? Sir?"

"…..Sorry. I lied."

"Pardon me?"

"The truth is, I haven't done a thing to you all day."

"What did you say?"

"I have not initiated treatment at all. Your memories have nothing to fear— they won't disappear from you."

"What the…! Oh my God! Y-y-y-y-you _tricked_ me?"

"….That's right. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? _Sorry?_ Wait, that means…!"

Sealand yelped in utter consternation. He looked so wretched now that I quite regretted what I had done…. But it was too late for apologies, or so I thought… But the reflective mood left as quickly as it had come, for Sealand burst into peals of unstoppable laughter.

"Haha, hahahahahha, ahahahahhahaha! !"

He was laughing so hard that at first, I thought that he'd gone off the deep end for good. But there was something about his smile— the first real smile I'd ever seen from him— that told me otherwise. Behind me, I heard a high, warm voice rose in merriment. That was Liechtenstein. And she was giggling. Oh well, whatever, I could live with this every one in a while. As long as it was a long while.

After thanking me profusely, over and over again, Sealand left our home for the trolley station. He boarded the last train to First Street as we watched. Assuming that the trolley ran on time, Sealand would be able to get out of town before the gates closed. The was the right of any Guest who chose not to participate in treatment. Night fell on the town where memories come to die. Liechtenstein and I watched Sealand's trolley until it disappeared into the darkness, and then we began heading back home.

"Norway. Total erasure. Is it really possible?"

"Let's see. I'm confident I could cause a serious bout of amnesia for a while, but recovery would probably be pretty rapid."

"I see. You're a good man."

"….Uh.. Liechtenstein? You're not supposed to say such things so seriously."

"Ahahaha!"

"..." Liechtenstein ran ahead of me, skipping and hopping all the way. I sighed, smiled, and then spoke to her from behind. "If you're wondering why I did that, it isn't because I'm a good guy, or a bad guy. Just a lazy one. I have a hard enough time babysitting one kid, see…."

"Babysitting?" She whipped about gracefully, raised her right knee high, and stomped on my foot as hard as she could.

….Flawless victory.

As I limped behind her, I thought of something. "Liechtenstein?"

"Mmmhmm?" I'd thought she'd still be at least a little man, but when she turned to me, there was this sweet little smile on her face. Thoroughly defeated now, I smiled right back at her.

"No, it's nothing."

"...?" From the experiences of today, Liechtenstein had gotten an eyewitness experience as to what erasure of Dolor was. When it came her turn, would she grow as terrified as well?

But I chose not to ask that question.

It was much better this way.

For her sake.

And for mine...


	6. Chapter 6: The Self Decieved

**A/N: **Liechtenstein's POV in this Chapter.

* * *

><p>Pop's first words to me were,<p>

"Rule #1. know that you are you."

We'd come out from a dark place. Hand in hand. Light shattered everything. I couldn't see. So I couldn't see what he was talking about, either. The rest of his rules go like this:

"Have pride. If the goings gets though, then get going. Bluff. Lie. Wear a mask. But keep moving forward. Then sadness will have no place in your heart. Someday."

They're mind to keep. Pops would roll in his grave otherwise. More importantly: if they break, I break.

His last words to me were,

"I love you" and "I want you to be happy".

I finally understand what he meant. I think…. _How_, on the other hand… Anyway. This much is obvious. I can't stand still.

My name is Liechtenstein. And that is why I am here.

* * *

><p>Norway isn't a morning person. He tries to hide it. He fails. Two weeks of living with hi have made that obvious. He eats breakfast. He washes dishes. He drinks coffee. Half asleep the entire time. I know. He sleepwalks all day long. Makes everything look easy. I'm just saying. It's most pronounced in the mornings. I don't get it. He washes dishes. He brews coffee. All better and faster than I can. Eyes closed. Both hands tied behind his back. Am I of any help to him? No. No way.<p>

If I were to mention this, all he'd say is. "You're my Guest, so there's no need for you to help out". Or something. But I can't just leave it at that… which is what makes me a fool among fools. Norway is _good._ Frighteningly good at everything. Is it because he's a Guide? Or was he like this to begin with? I don't know.

I do know this. He makes me realize just how much I don't know. So much to learn. I'm ashamed to admit it. I must become self-sufficient. I _must_. Because Pops isn't around to take care of me anymore.

"Liechtenstein, want to go out today?" Norway says, after taking a long sip of coffee. I just stare at him for a moment. I've still got Pops on my mind. Hard to break free.

I can feel the tears on my cheeks.

"Liechtenstein…?" His stony countenance softens a bit.

"Sorry about that. Can't help it sometimes. I'll try harder." I rub my eyes. Hard. The crying doesn't survive for long. Usually. I know. You can't cry in front of others. I'm not a kid. Not anymore.

Norway just stares at me. He's waiting. Waiting for the tears to end. He does this out of habit. Not malice. I get that. But still. It doesn't help. "…..and where are you taking me?"

"Well, hmm. How about the park, or perhaps the library?"

"Yay! Let's go!" No, I'm not faking it. Norway is antisocial. He'd stay at home all day if he could. He's never taken me anywhere. Other than Prussia's. But that doesn't count. I'm not allowed to wander anywhere. Not without my Guide. Suits me fine. I don't have a choice anyway. I'm a patient here. It's been a long time. I love going out. I wonder where this park is. The weather's perfect for a stroll. That'd be fun. And if we're going to the library. So much the better. I've read all my books. I want to borrow some more. That'd be fun too.

Either way, I can't wait! I gulp down my café au lait and jump to my feet. "Give me a couple minutes. Weather's good. I'll go hang up the laundry to air. Be done soon! I swear!"

"You don't have to be in such a rush, you know. It's not as if I'm planning on taking off without you."

"I know you better than that. You meanie. I'll be done before you change your mind. I promise. So don't leave me okay?"

"…..Okay."

* * *

><p>So I grab the laundry basket. Out into the garden— ah, the clotheslines. Good. Time to start hanging stuffs.<p>

Odd. Where are the ashen clouds? Where is the snow? Not that I'm complaining. It's still freezing out here. But look— see, there. You can feel winter's timid light whisper between the high trees. Half finished now. Making good progress. But wait— what was that sound?

…..could be a dog or a cat. If it is, I hope it's nice. I want to pet it. But what if it isn't? I'm kind of scared. Oh well. Let's take a look and see.

"…..Uh…" ….um. That'd not a dog. Or a cat.

"…..Well then. And you are?" I say to the girl who had just appeared… well, no. The girl who has been here the entire time. That's more like it. She stares at me. She stares at my laundry basket. Then she presses her slender fingertips together. Looks like she's at a loss for words. Um. What now? _I'm_ at a loss of words too. So we're reduced to staring at each other. "Um…. Are you lost?"

"N-No, I'm not. I, uh…." The girl suddenly hangs her head. Okay. So she's not lost. A thief, maybe? Then I shouldn't be standing here talking to her. I should go call Norway.

Okay. If she doesn't talk, I'm going to bolt. I begin to turn back when….. "Wait! I'm looking for a Guide. If you…. Uh… happen to be one…." The girl cuts herself off. In silence, she stares down at her clenched fists.

I see. One of Norway's patients.

"The Guide? He's indoors…. Anyway. Come in, okay? Too cold out here."

"…..Thank you. Thank you very much."

No point in taking the back door. Front door it is. The girl remains silent. There's a look in her eyes. Full of hidden things. Has she got The Dolor too?

* * *

><p>"You take quite a long time for someone who's in a hurry…. Huh….?" Norway looks all prepared to go out. What he's <em>not<em> prepared for is the girl behind me. Wait. Then she's not one of his patients? "….Who is this?"

"Uh. No idea. Found her in the garden."

Norway just sighs. Then: "Liechtenstein. You shouldn't talk to strangers, let alone invite them into your house like that. It's dangerous, you know… anyway, what's done is done. More importantly…. Who are you, miss?" He turns to the girl. You can tell. He's not happy. She's scared.

She starts trembling. She stands frozen for a moment. Then she finally looks up at him. Oh, wow. She's cute. Cute as a button. "M-my name is Hungary, sir. I've come seeking treatment for The Dolor."

"And? You think that give you the right to trespass?"

I have to say something. Otherwise this will be bad. "…Um, Norway…" It's obvious. He's going too far. The poor girl's quivering. In shock. But Norway sighs again. He turns to me.

"Look. When someone climbs over your wall and hides herself in your garden, around these parts we call that 'breaking and entering'. It's a _crime_, just so we're on the same page."

"I… I'm sorry. But…."

"…Wait. I'm not mad at you, Liechtenstein, so chin up, okay? It's just that I realize that I was a little sloppy there. You're absolutely right— it really doesn't look like Hungary here was planning on doing anything bad. But if she _were_, then we would have been in big trouble, see?"

"….I-I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to trespass. I swear, I'm sorry!"

"What's done is done. Don't worry— let he who is without sin cast the first stone, right? That isn't me. I won't repost you. What I _will_ do, however, is ask you what in the world you're doing here. Fair?"

"…Well, sir, see, I really had to get in touch with a Guide."

"And why, exactly, is that?"

"Huh…..? Obviously, in order to be cured. Why ever else would I….?"

"And yet…. I wonder. Do you _really _suffer from The Dolor?"

"…Wait! Sir, I have a certificate right here!" Hungary produces a thin scrap of paper. Then she thrust it at Norway. Who glances at it once, and pushes it back.

"Very well I believe you on that. The certificate's genuine, or such a good forgery that I can't tell. But tell me, where is your permit for the Guide Protocol? You don't have on, do you? You shouldn't even be here. Not for a long, long time. If you're found, you're going to be imprisoned here, for life, with no chance of parole. I'm sure you're well aware of that, right?"

"I, I, uh…" Her lips have frozen. In terror. There's fear in her heart. There are tears in her eyes. Norway shrugs. He waits. And he turns to me.

"We've wasted quite enough time, don't you think? Let's get going— no need to worry about her. She's resourceful. She got into town on her own. She'll figure out a way to leave without getting caught, I'm sure."

"But…." This is cruel. She's shaking. She's crying. Norway is toying with her. Like a cat with a mouse. I can't bear it. Norway— please stop.

"Now, now, don't hold back. It's okay to get mad here, really mad. After all, now it's getting kind of late to be going anywhere. And this is all _her_ fault. You were looking forward to the excursion, weren't you?"

"…but I'm not…" True. I was looking forward to it. But this is even truer: I need to do something for this girl. No matter what. One problem. That means screwing Norway over. Again.

"…..oh, fine. Man, I guess there's no two ways about it. You're too soft, Liechtenstein, you're too soft. I swear…" Norway sighs for the third time. The final time. He turns to Hungary. "Very well. I will take you on as my Guest. Know this: I am only extending my services to you because to do otherwise would be to upset my official Guest here. Which I will not do. My name is Norway, and I am a Guide. Should you wish to call me by any other name, go ahead and do so; I won't mind."

"….Huh? Then you mean…" Hungary looks up at Norway. She looks surprised. And delighted. Norway, meanwhile— he nods. With disgust.

"Save it. Thank Liechtenstein if you must. Oh, and Liechtenstein— satisfied?"

"Yeah. I'm so sorry, Norway."

"Oh, you did nothing wrong, so there's no need for you to apologize."

"Then thank you…."

"Eh, no problem. All in a day's work, as they say. Oh, and speaking of work… Hungary. I don't do this for free. I take it you've brought adequate compensation?"

"O-of course! Please, sir, set your price!" Norway just nods. Coldly. There's hesitation, though. I can feel it. Maybe he's ashamed of himself. A little…. But if I point that out he'll yell at me. Probably. Oh well.

"Hungary. Did you smuggle yourself into town empty-handed?"

"Oh, no sir. I left my luggage in your garden, I'm afraid."

"…..Luggage? Was nobody guarding the gates today? Or is everyone falling asleep on the job?"

"I'll go get it."

"Oh, no, Miss, you mustn't. I'll go with you."

* * *

><p>I turn to leave. Hungary runs after me. We walk together in silence. Time to take a good long look at her.<p>

She's not crying anymore. That's a relief. It hurt inside when I see people cry. "Thank you so much, ummm….."

"Liechtenstein.."

"Miss Liechtenstein, then? I fear that if it weren't for you, I would have been done for."

"Not at all. Norway meant to take you in. From the start. I think. He just needed an excuse."

"Is that really true? He's…. a difficult one, isn't he?" Hungary giggles. Hesitantly. Like a little songbird. Yes. She's so much cuter this way.

"Hungary, were…."

"Oh, just call me Betta, please. No need to be so formal, yes?"

"S-Sure. Then just call me Lilly."

"Oh, wonderful, dear Lilly! Now, where were we?"

"Were you hiding in the garden? The entire time? Weren't you cold?"

"Oh, love, I've been here since dawn. Ahahaha, I honestly thought I was going to freeze to death. You saved my life in more than one way, sweetie." Her laughter. So soft. So warm. Can't help but join in. A tender flower. That's what she is. So obvious. It's not right to let The Dolor rust that smile of hers away.

She's in Norway's hands now. Thank God. Lucky her. Unlucky him. I'll make it up to him. Someday.


	7. Chapter 7: Penpal named Yesterday

At AROMA. With Norway. And one other. Prussia's at his counter. As usual. Phails lined up in front of him. He's labeling them. Carefully.

"Busy?"

"Nah, just keepin' the place decent. Welcome… the hell, man, yet _another_ board? Hey, Lil Li, you gonna stand for this? He's _two-timin'_ ya, girl! Now— see here— a _real_ gentleman like me wouldn't do nothin' like that." So. Prussia's noticed Hungary. Look at his face. Half envious. Half stunned. All too complicated.

"This is Hungary. I took her in as my Guest today."

"Yet another side job? Man, what're ya gonna do if Sweden ever finds out?"

"I'll burn that bridge where I get there. Or something like that. On that note, I've got a favor to ask of you."

"Aha, so hell _has_ frozen over. You? Askin' a favor? Ya gotta be kiddin' me…" Prussia sweeps up the phails. His hands move fast. So fast it's all a blue. For a moment I think about asking what's in those phails. But it's too late. They're all racked In no time.

"I want you to supply her with a Guest Protocol permit."

"…..A trespasser? This Lil mam'selle here? Rock. Ya hooked a real lively one this time around, eh, Norway?" Prussia whistles. Then he leers at Hungary, of course, Hungary smiles back. Kind of. More like squirms. "A permit, though. What a pain, man. I _seem_ to remember some strings I could pull, but…"

"And I _seem_ to remember that you owe me."

"…Right.. Ja. This'll even us up, eh?" Prussia just laughs. Like it's all a joke to him… is it going to be that easy? How will he pull it off? I ask him this but he just turns to me and says: "Best that a young lady like you not know, ya get what I'm sayin'?" So it'll be dangerous. Great. Everything's my fault, now ever Prussia's mixed up in this.

"Liechtenstein. The decision to take Hungary on as a Guest was mine. Mine and mine alone. Do you understand? You have nothing to do with this." Norway can see right through me sometimes. That bothers me. See, I'm an open book to him. Not happy about that. Not all the time. "Hungary. I know you already know this, but you've been diagnosed with a very mild case of The Dolor. Therefore, you will be my Guest for a day only. But if you don't have a permit, you won't be allowed to leave, so…."

"I'll have somethin' ready by first light tomorrow."

"…so you'll have to stay in town with us until then. Agreed?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Sir."

"All right, and then let's get started. Can you tell me what happened to you? What caused your Corrosion?" Hungary listens quietly. And lines of tension begin appearing on her face, not surprising, not at all. It's really hard. How do you open yourself up? How do you retell your most painful memories? Especially to a total stranger?

"Aha, that's my cue. Gotta get this done for ya, and you don't need me here." Prussia nods. He knows what's going on. He stands up, walks to the door. He closes up shop. Then he leaves.

I guess that's my cue too. But what to do? I can't go anywhere. Not without my Guide. Not without Norway. I'm stuck, I think. Oh, but wait. Hungary started to talk. "I'd like for you to erase my memories of my family, sir." Wait a second. She can't be serious. Right? Wrong. That look on her face— it's obvious. She's serious. Dead serious.

Family….

….Pops immediately comes to mind. He was so good to me.

"Your memories of your family. You say that they're at the root of your Dolor? Tell me more, if you please."

"Yes sir. In my family…" Norway makes a motion with his hands. Cuts Hungary off. He doesn't need any more than this. He knows _what_ his target is. He doesn't have to know _how _his patient has been affected. He doesn't have to know _how _Hungary was hurt. That's irrelevant. I can tell. I can read him like a book. But only once in a while.

But Hungary keeps talking. Her face is drawn. Her eyes are soft, unfocused.

"My mother died when I was very young, so my father raised me for most part. We were always destitute, and my father… well, my father he…" Betta stops there. She's having a hard time. With whatever it is she's trying to say.

Her father what? What did he do?

I can't imagine. Pops was the only father I had. He was wonderful… I was blessed, wasn't I? Because I can't imagine.

"My father left home when I was sixteen. He abandoned me, and never looked back. I haven't been in contact with him since….. oh, heavens, I tried to forget about him. Tried and tried and tried. But I couldn't! When I close my eyes, I'm right back, chained by a voice that keeps telling me that I'll never be free.. Of him." Now there's cold steel in her eyes. This is hard for her. Even to retell. Obviously.

How? How can you be chained to someone who's disappeared? Or am I chained to Pops? Is that it? "….I'm going to be getting married soon, you see. For the first time in my life— ever— I'm going to be happy! I can feel it.. But that's just the problem— what do I do when my father comes to mind? I can't escape it. I'm so scared, don't you know? It's going to happen, sooner or later. And… I'm sure you understand that just won't do. So I beg you, kind sir. Please, please, take my memories of my family away. Cure me of my Dolor, so I can live my life."

Betta bows low. Her hands are clasped together at her lap. Clasped so tightly they're going white. As if she's enduring the most exquisite pain. Norway is glacial. Calm. Unperturbed. As if he hasn't been listening. Except he _has, _and…..

"I understand the etiology of your Dolor well enough. Thank you. Now, your permit will arrive tomorrow morning, so we'll wait. Until then, our place is yours."

Wait a second. There's something we're forgetting here. Oh no. This is bad. Real bad. We've only got one bed. Norway still sleeps on the sofa. I asked him if we should buy another bed once. I was denied. He told me it was a waste of money.

See. Pops left me some money. Not a lot. But I've saved it. I told Norway I wanted to buy a bed with that. He still shook his head. Should I bring this up now or not? Oh. My head is spinning; I have no idea what to say. So I won't say anything. No need to smother Hungary. Definitely no need to make more trouble for Norway. I'll just have her take the bed tonight.

The bell sounds.

And Prussia walks in. Wow. That was quick. Is everything okay? "That's a wrap. There'll be a little somethin' for your lady Guest by tomorrow mornin'. If ya know what I mean." Oh well, how nice. Prussia really came through. Unexpected. Hungary sighs. She looks relieved, me too. On less thing to worry about.

Prussia whips up a lunch for us. Delicious as usual then out to Sixth Street. With full stomachs and idle feet. In other words: Grocery shopping. "Um, would you mind horrible if I cooked dinner tonight?" Betta suggests softly. She takes the lead, picking out this and that. Norway tries to protest. Says that as a Guide, he can't have his Guest doing work, the usual. But Betta's just not giving up. "Oh, but sir, we only have one day together. It'd be poor form indeed if I didn't do at least this much for you, yes? So please? Pretty please?" Funny. Norway isn't going to win this one.

So. Betta starts picking stuffs out. She inspects every single ingredient. Only thoset hat pass muster make it into our basket. Wow. She's so serious. Norway's total opposite. He usually just buys stuff. Haphazardly. Whether it's good or not. "Oh, Lilly, honey. Is there anything that Norway really likes?" She whispers. Ugh. How am I going to answer this? Well, at least he isn't with us, he's waiting outside. It's just us girls.

"Well. He…. Doesn't _dislike_ anything. No. Wait. Don't see him eat sweets much but things he _likes_….. not sure about that."

"Ahahahha, I guess we're back to square one, then. In that case, Lilly, what would you like to eat?"

"Anything is fine. Um, wait….. uh…. Maybe not carrots….." Betta giggles at this… odd. Norway laughed about this too. Is there something the matter? About not eating carrots? "Okay, I understand. Then our dinner menu will be….. kohlroulade, sole meuniere, pasta fredda con salsa di pomodoro, oxtail consommé, and a winter salad. What do you think? Will that work?" ….work? I've never even heard of these dishes. Let alone eaten them. Well. I understood 'salad'. But that's about it. "Or maybe that's not good enough? Something that doesn't sound appetizing?"

Uh-oh. Betta's taken my silence for disapproval. So I shake my head no. As hard as I can. "Um, Betta? Uh. Could you… uh…. Possibly…. Teach me how to cook? Please? Pretty please with a cheery on top?" Betta's eyes widen then she laughs. So warm. So sweet.

"Oh, of course, I'd love to! Why, are you bad at cooking?"

"No clue. Not avoiding it. Just, uhh….." So much I don't know. That bothers me, have to ask Norway whenever I need to do something. That has to change. Sure. He always teaches me, expertly, until I finally get it but he'll get tired of me that way. Soon enough.

"…Oh, sweetie, you'll be just fine. I'll teach you everything I know. So let's finish up with these groceries, go home and get to work, shall we?" She touches my shoulder gently, calms me right down and winks. "So tell me, what have you got in terms of ingredients at home? I imagine you have salt and pepper, right? How about bread crumbs and flour?" She just goes down her list in her hand, it's awesome and frightening. Ground beef, ground pork, sole, cabbage, onion, tomato, bay leaf, nutmeg, my goodness. She's _really _in command. Seems that she knows this market like the back of her hand. Like a long-term resident or a Guide. And now we're done. That was _fast_. Time to go get Norway.

"We're all done, sir. We're awfully sorry about the wait."

"Oh, no problem. If you'll give me the receipt, we can get you reimbursed, of course."

"Oh, no, Norway, I couldn't. You just sit back, and let me treat you. Please?" Betta wins. Not even any resistance from Norway this time, so instead he points at my shopping bags.

"Liechtenstein, I'll carry those. Yours too, Hungary."

"That's very chivalrous of you, sir. Thank you…." She says with a blush and smile. Then she hands over the bags and I hand over of my two bags as well.

"…and the other one as well, please. That one's the heavier of the two anyhow, isn't it?"

"….Yes"

"I swear, you worry about the strangest things sometimes. You don't have to carry a thing. I won't think any less of you…" He says with a vague smile of his own. Um. But I wasn't worried about anything; I'm just not used to having a guy carry my things. But now I'm all tripped up. Why does everything I do backfire? Again and again? Now Betta's giggling at me. Great. Just great.

* * *

><p>Back at home. After a short break. Now we're making dinner. Betta and I.<p>

My God. She's a genius. At least in the kitchen. Yes. It's true. Norway and Prussia. They're both good. Very good. But totally unrefined compared to Betta. She washes every dish; every utensil after use, the sink's sparkling clean no matter what we do. "See, darling? It may be a little bit more work, but oh, it makes cleanup so much easier afterwards. That way, you can relax after you eat, rather than having to bustle about." Hungary shrugs, vaguely, and smiles, vaguely. Not sure myself. She's juggling an awful lots. Stuffs will get dirty anyhow. This cleanup's a zero sum game. Isn't it? What do I know?

I felt like I couldn't touch anything at first. I still don't But Betta's true to her word, she's been teaching me lots. How to wash vegetables, how to peel an onion, chopping, dicing, mincing. She's pushing me to my limits. "Oh, darling. You're not so bad yourself! And here I was thinking that you wouldn't know anything about cooking at all… why, you were playing a joke on me, hmmmm? I'm going to run out of things to teach you soon enough, see?" Betta's in the middle of rolling up ground beef into cabbage for the kohlroulade and she sounds kind of…. Disappointed. I'm in the middle of peeling onions. Crying because of the onions. Shaking my head. Because of what Betta said.

"No. No way. I didn't know how to dice. Or to mince. Or to wash vegetables. Or even that you cry when you peel onions. I didn't know anything."

"Ahahaha, that's sweet of you to say that, dear. But all this stuff is simple, see? We're no different, you and I. It's just that I was around the kitchen a lot as a kid…" Her face clouds over. She's thinking about her childhood. She must have had it rough. I don't know what to say.

"…..Oh, Betta."

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry. Why, I can't be going around moping like this. You must have had it so much worse than me, after all."

"Well… no. I'm good. Really."

"But that can't be right, can it now? I know— I've heard all about it. The more severe your disease, the longer your stay here. Isn't that so?"

"….."

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't hold it in, poor thing! Because if you do, you'll end up buried inside yourself. Crushed. And it'll really be too late! So you have to do something about it, sooner rather than later!"

'I wonder….."

"Well, I don't. I think I'm right. See, I really hated having no money. When you're poor, nothing's easy. You're weighed down by everything. And you're not a nice person…. I grew to hate who I was becoming. I couldn't take it anymore. That's why I…. after my father left… I became a working girl. Eighty hours, a hundred hours a week, I didn't care. Whatever it took. Oh, I know, I know. You're probably going to think that I'm low for saying this— but I really needed to be rich." Yet again that vague smile and that vague shrug. Um. I have no idea what to say to that. Should I smile? Should I frown? All of the above? None of the above? "But now I'm happy, see? There's a man who says he loves me… But when I think back to when I was poor and alone, I just lose it. And that just won't do, dear! I had to make it all disappear before I got married, and…"

"….and that's why you came here? Illegally?"

"That's right. What do you think? I'm hopelessly impatient, don't you think?"

It's horrible. But it's also so mischievous. So I start laughing against my will. And so we go on cooking, laughing all the while, outside, not so sure about inside.

* * *

><p>We're all stuffed. Norway most of all. He left nothing on his plate. No idea whether he like it or not, he's always this way. So I'm forced to ask, well, actually. I blurt the question out without even thinking. "Oh, it was really delicious. I'm quite impressed at how you managed to not use carrots at all." And he smiles. He's teasing me isn't he? He really <em>is <em>a meanie.

I shoot him a glare. Then I rise. Time to prepare some coffee. I got Prussia to teach me how to do it, his way, so this shouldn't turn out badly. I think. I pour Norway a cup. He smiles and accepts. He sips a bit then he turns to Hungary, as if he's just remembered something. "Hungary. There's something I almost forgot to tell you."

"Yes sir?" She looks up from her cup. Norway stares at her for a second then he turns to me, and then he turns back to her.

"…..You two have become fast friends, looks like. So I'm really sorry to say this, but…. Hungary. When you leave this place tomorrow, your Dolor will be erased. You came here for the purpose, I know. But did you know that everything you've experienced here will also be erased?"

"…..Yes sir.. I'm well aware of that."

"I see. Very well then." Yes. That's true. Doesn't make it any less sad. See. They erase your Dolor here. Erase it completely. That means erasing any possible triggers, have to lock those all away. So. The patient's memories of this town must go too. Turns out that the brain instinctively fills in the gap anyhow. So the patient just remembers taking a long trip. Solo. Without stopping anywhere.

Betta won't remember me. That sucks. But there's no choice. Otherwise she'll never be free. Besides, now's not the time for this, have to make memories with her while I can. She might forget me but I'll never forget her because I'm still here.

* * *

><p>Dinner's over. We're cleaning up. And Hungary's talking nonstop. Favorite books. Recent movies. Her dog who is very dumb but very cute. Her love. Oh. Wow. She's in love alright. Just look at her, the way she talks about him. The way she blushes. The way she smiles. So shy. Even I can tell. We talk late into the night but now I'm getting sleepy. It's time for bed. After all. Betta has a full day tomorrow. Can't be holding her up.<p>

"Oh, Betta. Want to go to sleep now? Let's go. The bedroom's upstairs." We pass Norway in the living room, he puts down his books, I can feel his eyes on me. But I just go upstairs before he can say anything to me.

We stop at the door to my room. Hungary looks hesitant. "This is your room, isn't it? Oh, I couldn't….."

"Well… see. I figured if you took this one. I could try out another room for once, unless you object?"

"Oh, no, I have no objection at all, sweetie. Just… are you sure this is fine with you?"

"Of course. Nothing would make me happier."

"Then I'm honored, and I accept. Thank you so much." Betta walks in and puts down her luggage. Just as I hoped, I'm so relieved.

"Oh. Betta, my bad. There's something I have to do. It'll take just a second. I swear. Okay?"

"Hmmm? Would you mind if I asked what exactly you'll be doing?" In response I sweep right past her. I walk to the desk by the window. I unlock a drawer and I bright out a three-ring binder.

"Got to write a little something. Mind if we keep the light on until I'm done?"

"Oh, please, go right ahead. So you keep a diary?"

"Something like that. Just recording what happened today."

"And I suppose…. Absolutely no peeking, right?"

"…..yeah. Thanks for asking. But please don't look."

"I won't, I swear. But still, tell me— you record what you _remember_ in that binder, right? And yet those things will all be gone by the time you leave. How exactly do you reconcile the two?"

"Maybe this way. You forget the words. You forget the feelings. You forget yourself. That's all I've got. So even when you look back: Thos words are other words. Those feelings are other feelings. That self is another self."

"…But that's so lonely…" Betta murmurs. One word at a time. Barely. As for me, I'm happy, happy that she thinks that way of me.

Done writing for the night. I lock my binder back up in its place. I turn to see what Hungary's doing. She's sitting in bed. Undoing her long luxurious braids. "Oh, wow. You've got your hair done up so pretty."

"You think so? Hey, I have an idea! I'll braid your hair for you, sweetheart. That would be fun, what do you say?"

"Uh….. but wait. We're going to sleep soon. Bed head. Your work will be wasted."

"Oh, I suppose that's one way of looking at it but come on, think about it. Why not do it? You'll look cuter, I swear. It doesn't matter whether that's for one second of for one century, the way I see it."

"…I wonder…."

"I don't. C'mon, sweetie, sit here with me." I do just that. What other choice do I have, really? She strokes my hair. Caresses it. Starts braiding it. With so much warmth. It's so nice, it tickles. Deep down inside it hurts, hard to sit still, even though it feels so good. "Don't move now, okay? Hmmm… Let me see. I was thinking maybe a red ribbon at first, but that just won't do, now, will it? No, a blue one, that's the color for you. Right?"

"Oh, wow. You're so good at this."

"Ahahhaha, that's because I've been doing this for years. I did my little sister's hair for years, see. She never did learn how to do it for herself…"

"Wait. You have a sister?"

"…..Yes, I did…." Betta freezes up. I guess that was a no-no. Shouldn't have gone there, she said as much earlier. She wants to forget her family and that means. She wants to forget her sister too.

"Lilly? Would you mind if I asked you something personal?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Oh, darling, you're so kind and sweet and gentle. So why do you talk like that?"

"Huh? My speech. There a problem with it?"

"Oh, no, no problem at all. It's just….. a little unusual, that's all."

"…" Oops. Never thought about it. Unusual. I think she means: Totally weird. Great.

"Pops used to talk this way. That's why. I think."

"Pops? Your father, in other words?"

"Wrong. Pops raised me. But he wasn't my father."

"…Oh, I see. I can tell— you must have loved him so much…."

"I did. Still do." So much. That's right. It hurts to even remember him. Even now. Pops loved me. He gave me all he had. Did I love him back just as much? Did I repay him for all he gave me? Really. I don't think so.

"And there we go! All done!" She finishes by working ribbons into my new braids. It's beautifully done. I can felt it. She hands me a mirror. No need. I already know. But I look anyway. And I see another self staring back at me. "Yes, yes. Very cute indeed."

"…." I'm embarrassed. So embarrassed that half of me want to undo these braids _right now._But the other half of me knows that's impossible. Betta did such wonderful job. I have no choice. "B-Betta. Th-Thank you so much. I, uh. I'm going to bed now. See you tomorrow….."

"Good night, sleep tight. Rest well my dear." I try to conceal the fact that I'm blushing. I fail. She pretends not to see. And smiles. And smiles. And smiles.


	8. Chapter 8: Running Away

**A/N: **Thank you readers. And… Here's the new chapter. Still Lilly's POV. Mind you, this is how she talks. With pauses, I notice that most shy people talk like this. Anyway, Enjoy Chapter 8.

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><p>I close the door behind me. I cross the hall. There's an empty room. I'll sleep here tonight.<p>

There are a couple of fresh blankets. I'd brought them here earlier in preparation. I sit, I cover myself with them, be warmer this way. Not by much. Every little bit helps. Cold in here. Too cold to sleep. So I start thinking about Betta instead. How she learned cooking as a kid, how her little sister couldn't do her hair by herself, how she wants to forget her own family.

Dark. Eyes closed. Body still. Mind racing. Can't tell where my body ends. Where the dark begins. Floating in space. Unbounded.

….No. Stop it. Rule #1. Know that you are you.

I repeat these words to myself. A mantra that has no power because Pops isn't around to take care of me anymore.

What's that? Someone, someone at the door. Knocking. Oh. That brings me back. I'm here. Probably Bella. Maybe something happened to her, better go check. Okay. Okay. I'm coming…. "Oh.. Norway.." Don't know what I was expecting. It wasn't _this. _He just gives me a long stare. Half surprised. Half resigned. I know that look.

"I figured you'd pull something like this, but still… sorry. I should have checked up on you much earlier."

"…?"

"You're pale, and you're shaking. You must be really cold, hmm? Come on downstairs— I'll get some hot cocoa going. It'll put the color back in your cheeks." Huh. He's right. I _am _shivering. My fingers and toes— all stiff. All nerveless. But that's not because they're cold. I can feel it. Inside me.

"Um. Norway?"

"We'll talk more downstairs, I promise. Oh, and I also promise that I won't tell Hungary a thing." Okay. Good. I nod. And follow him downstairs.

* * *

><p>The mug is piping hot. Warms my hands right up. I ca feel them again. I take a sip. It's sweet. I can feel it. I can feel it spreading inside of me.<p>

Norway hasn't said a thing. Not ever since we came downstairs. He's waiting for me to make my move. Guess what? Now that I'm all warm. I'm starting to feel miserable. All the sudden. "….I'm so sorry, Norway."

"About what?" About _everything, _silly! I've kept you up. I've forced you to do stuffs. I've gotten you in trouble. I'm no help at all. Do you really need to make a girl _say _it? This sucks. He stares at me. Glacially. For a second. Then he sighs.

"Liechtenstein.. You know, it's commendable to treat others well. It really is. But if you go so overboard that you ed up like this, you just end up hurting the very people you want to help."

"…Right…"

"So you should take care of yourself first. You shouldn't be ashamed to be a little more selfish."

"I got that a lot." From Pops. I remember. I remember how sad he looked. Whenever he said that. I could never understand. Why? All I could tell was that it hurt him. That just made me want to apologize to him. Over and over. And that hurt him. Even more. I know that now. "I'm plenty selfish. Trust me." I smile. Or I try. Norway – well, he just smiles back. In his vague manner. And he shakes his head.

"Not a chance."

"You don't say…"

"…I do say."

"Oh. Really. Then I guess I'll have to become even more selfish. Make all sorts of trouble for you. You want that?" I try smiling again. This time it comes out. And Norway follows suit. Okay. The blues are gone. For now. The stove's going. It's really warm in here. Norway always sleeps here. But I've never seen him do it with the stove going. Which means. This is so special. Also. I've never gotten to stay up this late. It's quiet. Too quiet. Eighth Street is pretty calm even at high noon. But now that it's midnight the silence is deafening. Dark out. And cold, too. But it's bright in here. And warm. So warm. I'm happy. To be in this bright room. This warm room. Drinking hot cocoa. With Norway. Well. Not quite. Remember: Norway doesn't like sweets. So he's drinking coffee instead. Black. Is he pulling a all-nighter? Or something? I wouldn't be able to sleep after that.

"Oh, uh, Liechtenstein? I've been meaning to ask about this ever since you came down – what's up with that?"

That? What does he mean? I have to ask again. He starts saying something. Then he stops. He reaches out. Brushes my hair. Gently. Where the ribbons are. "Eeek!"

"That. What's up with that?" Norway strokes my hair again. Feels so weird. Makes me want to retreat into myself. Not unpleasant. Still ticklish…. So he's found a new way to torture me.

"Oh.. Betta did my hair for me. You like?"

"I like. Very cute, very cute."

But. He sounds like the cat who ate the canary. Should I be happy? Should I be mad? I'm so confused. And he just starts laughing. So he _was_ teasing me.

"Off to bed with you now. Otherwise you'll be in no condition to send Betta off tomorrow, and that won't do, will it now?"

"….okay."

"The sofa's all ready for you. You're taking it. No ifs, ands, or buts. Okay?"

"Okay…." I've already made so much trouble for him. I'm in no position to argue. But if I take the sofa. Where's Norway going to sleep?

"I'll be sleeping over there." He points at the kitchen table. So he'll be sleeping in a chair. Bad for posture. Or something.

* * *

><p>I lie on the sofa. Comfy. Tucked in. Buried in blankets. Norway puts out the fire as he leaves the room. And my mind starts racing again. What is wrong with me today? Only kids are afraid of the dark. Right? I wonder. Is Norway still here with me? "Norway?"<p>

His answer comes. From a log way away. Well. The kitchen. "What is it?"

"Mmm.. you know. Betta says…" Yeah. That bugs me. Betta thinks I talk funny. I should ask Norway too. But how? And what exactly am I going to say? Well. Now what? "Um, never mind."

"….No, finish your thoughts."

"It's nothing. I sweat. Sorry about that." Let's just go to sleep. I'm just going to ramble o this way. With bad thoughts. Better just end it.

* * *

><p>….How long have I been asleep? I'm hearing things. Weird things. I open my eyes. I prick up my ears. These sounds. They're coming from the front door. And now up the stairs. This is scary. I can feel it. I'm bunching up the blankets. I can't help it. Somebody's breaking in. And entering. The sounds track up the stairs. And then they disappear. I jump out of the sofa. Sure. I was scared before. But not it's gone. I'm more worried about upstairs. Because Betta's up there. And I don't care who the intruder is. He's not going to lay a finger on her. I won't let him.<p>

So I throw off the blanket. And start running toward the stairs. Then something grabs me. Holds me tight. Traps me. "….AHHHHHHH-Mpphh!" I scream. Without thinking. A hand comes out of nowhere. Clasp my mouth shut. I'm frozen. In terror. Is this the end?

"Liechtenstein. Quiet now." He whispers. Close to my ears. All my strength leaves me. Right then. I feel dizzy. My knees are weak. Like I'm going to flop on the floor. That passes. Now I'm annoyed. Very annoyed. Why'd he have to scare me like that? And gag me?

"Mmmmpphh mpph mphhh! Mphhhh!"

"Yes? Oh, right, sorry." He let me go. Finally. I take a deep breath. I turn to him. But his eyes are elsewhere. He's looking out the window. Intently. Hmmm.. What could it be? Curtains are still drawn. No, wait— there's something red. Red light. Why, that's…

"….A fire? Th-The house. Is it on fire? Got to put it out! Wait! Betta's still upstairs. Norway. Someone went up there. I heard…"

"Liechtenstein. Get a grip on yourself." Norway whispers. He's calm. Too clam. So calm it's maddening. And he's motioning for me to be quiet. But how? How does he expect me to do that?

"But. I heard something. Just now. There's someone upstairs. Someone bad. We have to get Betta out of there."

"She'll be fine."

"But….!" Norway stares at me for a second. Then he turns. And looks out the window once more. It's snowing. The fire begins to die. As we watch.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Come, let's go back to sleep now."

"Nothing? That's impossible. So you say Betta's in no danger. Fine. I'll believe you. But there's still that fire. Got to put it out." Norway sighs. Wearily. And finally. He nods.

Out the black door. Into a world of snow. Colder than I though. Snow's fierce. Wind's even more fierce. Ah. Here's the blaze. Or where it was. Only thin smoke and silent ash now. The thick-strewn snow has seen to that. Wait. Let's get closer. There's something else. Something pretty. And colorful. Scraps of pastel-colored papers. Neat handwriting. Just starting to burn. My arms and legs move by themselves. Now I'm at the burn site. Scooping up snow. Frantic. Quenching what fire remains. I comb through the sludge. Even more frantic. But it's too late. Just blackened scarps. Nothing more.

I can hear Norway behind me. Telling me to go back inside. Telling me to go back to bed. But I can't do that. Because there's something here. Something I have to do. I gather up the burnt paper. Every scrap. I cradle them. Closet to me. And finally I stand. So many envelopes. So many pretty colors. Each one letter.

* * *

><p>"If you take this gate, and just keep going straight, you'll be able to leave this town." It's morning now. Norway has finished with Betta. And now we've brought her to the Eighth Street gate. All those who have undergone the Protocol to completion leave town from here. Better just nods. She looks so blank. Like she's walking in dreams. Or nightmares. She almost looks hypnotized. So <em>that's <em>what happens to treated Dolor patients.

I'm told that it won't last. It'll be gone by the time she walks out the gate. She'll go back to her life. Without any problem to weigh her down. "Farewell, Betta…" Does she hear me? Is she ignoring me? I'll never know. But I have to say it. She's not even looking my way. But that's okay. We exchanged goodbyes a while ago. Before. Before her memories died.

The inspection officer at the gate asks Betta for her papers. She hand them over. Gilbert was true to his word. He got them to us by first light. Everything seems to be in order. Look, there he goes. He's opening the gate for her. Betta walks out the gate. Out of town. Out of our lives. The gate closes. Quickly. Before she even disappears. The officer has seen to that.

"Shall we head on home?" I nod. Without a word.

It's early morning here. The shops are still closed. It's quieter than ever. We walk past two women. One of them is stumbling about. With that blank look. The same one that Betta was wearing. When I last saw her.

So. She must be leaving as well. Makes sense. I've been told that most Guide choose to discharge their patients at dawn. I stop for a bit. Watching the two figures. Until they disappear. Into the snow. "Feeling down?"

"You know that answer to that already. Don't you?" I begin walking again. Faster. So I can catch up with him. Or breaths paint frosty shadows across the morning sky. "About Betta. You think she'll find happiness?"

"Perhaps she will…"

"….Norway? Sorry. You're bad at lying."

"….Perhaps I am."

I'm still carrying those letters. Inside my coat. And I'm hugging them. With all I've got. Even though they're all charred. But when I hug them. I can feel them burning. Burning with her anger. Burning with her regret. Burning with her self-blame.

None of these letters had ever been read. They were still sealed. When they were consigned to the blaze. By Betta. It has to be. Since every one – _every single one_ – is addressed to her.

How many hands made these letters? At least two. One writes beautifully. Neatly. Carefully. Another writes plainly. Artlessly. Simply. And in the return address area. They intertwine and intersect. Letters from Betta's family. The family she wanted so much to forget. Tens and tens of letters.

I'll never know. Maybe they really were mean. Maybe they really were cruel. Just as Betta claimed. Maybe times were tough. Maybe they were dirt poor. Maybe life was so hard that running away was the only way out.

I'll never know.

But this I do know. Her father isn't the person who ran away. She is.

"The thing she was running away from… it wasn't her memories of her father, or being poor. She was running from herself and, most likely, she'll pay that someday. I'm really not sure that it's possible to run away from yourself. Not forever."

"….Maybe. But I still hope. That Betta will find happiness after all."

Norway smiles. That moment. I finally see. His smile. The kindest smile in the world….


	9. Chapter 9: Butterfly

**A/N: **The previews Chapter is a bit confusing. I know. It killed me too, I humbly apologize about that my dear readers. I've been struggling with a very bad writers' block, Anyway, here's the next Chapter. Thanks Titoes for inspiration.

Back to Norway's POV. *Hurrah*

There will be a lot of twist in the future. *Gasps* Enjoy.

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><p>'The world's changing. The ground's shaking and our lives are whirling; everything we pray for and hold onto is turning upside down.'<p>

'The day's coming. We'll wake up only to find that everything we've known is a monstrous lie….'

'When black is white and white is black, what color will my eyes then see?'

I put down a piece, neatly snaring an off-white stone between two black ones Then, I reached out and flipped the trapped piece so its black face was up. Liechtenstein grimaced. "….."

"Your move, Liech." There was a long pause. Then she shook her head; fair enough, she didn't have a valid move anyhow. So instead, I put down my last piece – the piece that would end the game, probably. Of course, Liechtenstein kept glaring at me, even though the outcome of this game had become painfully obvious moves ago. And when I was done flipping pieces, almost all of the stones on the grind were black. "That's all, folks." Upon hearing this, Prussia looked over at the game board and sighed.

"What? Didja lost yet again, Little Li?"

"…not as badly. As last time."

"Hmm, come to think of it, yeah, you're right. But wait – you were playin' white. How come Norway got to make the last move, huh?"

"A bunch of times. I has no move. So I had to pass. That's why."

"Whoa, man, that's harsh. Norway, aren'tcha bein' a mite, ya know, extreme? Can'tcha take it easy on her, for once?"

"And if I did that, she'd just get upset, wouldn't she now?"

"Uh, dude, but it's yer _duty _to make sure she doesn't notice, isn't it now?"

"Eh, I'm no good at that kind of manipulation, and you know it."

"Yeah, right, whatever." Prussia shrugged, and gave me one of his "oh well, at least I tried" looks. Then he noticed the glum expression on Liechtenstein's face, and said, "Hey, keep yer chin up, ya hear? No shame in losing to him. See, there's no way of beatin' him fair-n-square. He plays dirty. Dirty, like a dirty old man."

"….Dirty old man…"

"Look who's talking…" I glared at him as I poured the game piece back in their case, but he merely shrugged, as if what I'd just said had gone in one ear and out the other.

"Prussia. Have you ever beaten him?"

"Oh, of course I have!"

"Around once every five times we play, or less."

"Well, yeah, that sounds about right." I didn't like playing him much. First of all, his moves were impossible to read – he was just all over the place. Second of all, he just kept playing you until he finally won at least once. This was in sharp contrast to Liechtenstein, whose every move and every gesture was an open book. It kind of made me wonder: did a player's true personality emerge in the stones he set down, in the patterns of his play? Then I quickly stopped myself. Because if that hypothesis was true, it made me a "harsh", "extreme", "dirty old man". Right. Just what I wanted to be when I grew up.

"Anyway, tell me – are ya free today? Both of ya?" He asked, flashing us his most ingratiating – therefore his most _evil _– smile.

"No."

"Holy smokes, man, don't be that way. Ya look awfully free to me, if you get what I'm sayin'. Little Li, giveme the straight dope, will ya?"

"Huh? Um. Don't think we have any plans."

"That's right. We have no plans. For instance, we really aren't planning on listening to your latest scheme." I'd hoped this would cut him off, but Prussia just grinned and nodded.

"Then you've got nothin' to worry about, bro. Not schemin' at all, I swear. See, on Third Street…."

"Look, I said I wasn't interested." This much was obvious: if we struck around and listened to him, we were going to get stuck in yet another of his zany wild goose chases. Right, the only way to dodge this bullet was to turn a deaf ear…

"Third Street….. speaking of which, Little Li, have you ever been there?"

"No. What kind of place is it?"

"Well, see, it's got these huge houses. Massive. They call it 'Mansion Row'. I swear, ya feel all nice and bourgeois just _walking _down the road there, no joke."

"Bourgeois?"

"Never mind that. Point is, it's a nice place. And ya see, one of the houses on Mansion Row…."

"That's quite enough out of you. Didn't I already tell you? We're not interested in…." Unfortunately, I noticed that look on Liechtenstein's face right then. Great. She was interested, all right. "…." I'd expected he would try to pull something like this. But had that foreknowledge helped me? Hell no. I mean – Liechtenstein was practically _glowing _with excitement and rapt attention. I shot my most sour glare at him. He, of course, just shrugged and grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"As was sayin' before I was so _rudely _interrupted by Norway here, one of the houses is old, abandoned… and scheduled for demolition. It's gotta be some big eyesore, ya know? They sent me an official requisition – wanted me to perform a preliminary inspection before the demolition team move in…" He went on, flashing us a dazzling – and therefore _completely untrustworthy_ – smile. "But I kinda sorta forgot about it. And the deadline's tomorrow."

"You _what? _How exactly did you manage to do that?"

"Very carefully. Let's cut to the chase – how 'bout it? Why don't you and little Li go check the place out? I promise, it'll be fun!"

"No. Just no. This is _your _job, not mind – you go do it yourself."

"Yeah, but I got another job to finish by then, and, well…. You know…" I'd figured as much. No wonder he'd forgotten all about this… and for that matter, exactly how may jobs was he working at once, anyhow? "Oh, c'mon, it'll be _simple, _from my lips to God's ears. There's nobody there – all ya gotta do is walk in, take a long look around, and walk out. Boom! All done. 'sides, little Li wants to go. Right, Li?"

What the hell, man. I was going to turn him down once and for all and leave the place as quickly as I could, but then I saw the look on Liechtenstein's face – it was so full of curiosity and hope that…. Well… what was I supposed to do?

"And isn't it the _duty _of a Guide to take his Guest where she wants to go? Especially a cutie like this one." He said this softly, so that Liechtenstein wouldn't hear it – but this much was obvious: he knew her character almost as well as I did.

"…..Fine!" I finally replied. My mouth felt like it was full of ashes. "But you have to come clean too. What are you hiding?" They didn't, after all, requisition a Guide to do an inspection of _any _sort on _any _building, much less one that was going to be demolished. So there had to be some reason… Prussia eventually wilted under my glare. First, he turned away. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"….All right, all right already. Just stop _glarin' _at me like that, ya hear? I hear…. _Stories _about that house."

"Stories?" God. Just what had I gotten myself into this time?

"_Ghost _stories, to be exact. Makes ya wanna laugh, doesn't it?"

…..No, this makes me want to _strangle _you.

* * *

><p>We finished our lunch, left AROMA, headed for the station and boarded the outbound trolley. Liechtenstein looked out the window with great interest – this was something new. Her hands and cheeks were so soft and white in the gentle afternoon light, and the shadows they cast on the opposite wall were equally soft. The light and shadow went on sketching an intricate <em>pas de deux, <em>every time the trolley chickety-clacked on the rails.

We got off at the Third Street station. After getting our bearings, we walked along the main promenade of Mansion Row, taking in the sights and sounds as we neared our final destination. For my part – all this made me remember why I didn't bother to come here that often. Or at all. There was something – something about the high walls and the forbidding gates and the domineering stonework – that gave me the chills, deep down inside. But obviously, Liechtenstein didn't feel the same way. She was prancing about, looking up at the mansions and status with the greatest of interest. She was so absorbed, actually, that I was kind of surprised that she hadn't walked straight into a wall and fallen over by now.

"Liech, we're taking this turn here."

"Oh. Um. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. All the houses are so tall. So many rooftops. So many birds."

"A little crazy, isn't it?"

"Tell me. Do you know? How many people live in a house like this?"

"Two, usually. A Guide and his Guest."

"Just two?"

"Just two. I suppose there's going to be helpstaff, as well – maids and cooks and such – but I don't really know. Why, do you want to move into one of these mansions?"

"Hmmmm. It'd be pretty rough. Cleaning would take days…" She smiled weakly. It wasn't so surprising that she'd say this – she'd taken over cleaning duties at our place on Eighth these days. And, well…. Compared to these sprawling estates on Mansion Row, our place was almost laughably small and cramped. We had to consult the map that Prussia had drawn for us over and over to finally find the place. It was well out of the way – lost in a maze of side streets and back alleys.

I doubted that we would have been able to find it without this map.

It was almost as if… it didn't want to be found….

"It feels like it, all right…."

"…..? Like what?"

"Like it might be haunted by a ghost." The windows were boarded up. The gates were rusted and choked with weeds. There was ivy chewing into the cracked stonework. No wonder – no wonder people were spreading those rumors. I heard Liechtenstein gulp softly beside me. "What, are you scared of ghost?"

"Not at all."

"Good. Good for you. Let's go on in, shall we?" I used the key that Prussia had given me. I felt the lock give. And the door opened with a sound so ragged and miserable that it might as well have been a shriek. It was dark in here. Too dark. So dark that I couldn't see past my own nose. I couldn't see Liechtenstein, but I could feel her small hands gripping my right sleeve, hard. So I was forced to fumble about for the light switch with my left hand. And then, everything became clear. So the electricity hadn't been shut off yet. Good, good.

"S-surprisingly tidy…."

"So it is." Old-world elegance exuded from every corner of the foyer. Not a single thing was out of place. I had not a clue whose hands had orchestrated these arrangements. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they must have been skilled. Because this place did not look dilapidated enough to warrant destruction. "So the 'inspection' they want us to perform has nothing to do with structural damage. No. I should have known. It's for something quite different…"

"…..Ghosts?"

"Yeah. We're here to put an urban legend to rest… or to be put to rest ourselves. Nice choice, don't you think?" Well, there was no point in just standing here for much longer. But when I took my first step forward, I felt a certain someone's grip on my sleeve getting tighter. Much tighter. "….You know…"

"H-Huh….? Oh, uh. Um.. uh…."

"…If you're scared, you're welcome to wait outside."

"I said, I am _not _scared." Annoyance, anger, embarrassment, fear – all of those things flashed across her face. She let go of my sleeve. And then she started walking briskly, deeper and deeper inside. I started to follow her. My eyes caught a flit of sudden motion – a black butterfly was fluttering through the dusty air.

….a butterfly. How odd.

"Liech, don't to too far. It's dangerous."

"D-dangerous?"

"You never know how much structural damage there is."

"….Oh."

"Besides – I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about this. It's almost as if… someone's watching us…"

"There's someone else? Here?"

"We'll find out soon enough. But that's not what I'm worried about…."

"What is, then?"

"Don't know. You scared?"

"Look. I already told you. Not scared. At all." Except her voice sounded like it was losing conviction by the second. As for me – well – I couldn't shake the feeling that someone – or something – was watching us. And then I saw something of the corner of my eye.

"…Oh."

"….! What was that just now?" Liechtenstein turned to me. She was shaking. Badly. But whatever it was – I couldn't see it anymore.

"I guess I was imagining things…"

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Not at all. But come now – if you thought it _was_ on purpose, you shouldn't have been so scared."

"Doesn't matter! Scary is still scary!"

"…So you _are _scared."

"….." She spun quickly to try to hide it, but I could tell how fiercely she was blushing. But more importantly – when she did that, I saw the butterfly nestled in her hair. It looked kind of ominous, to tell the truth – those slender legs piercing into Liechtenstein's hair. I made as if to brush the butterfly away, but stopped when Liechtenstein started trembling, violently. Her face had completely drained of color, as if she'd seen something not of this world… or the next.

"….Why?" She whispered, her voice barely audible through tightly-pursed lips. She took an uncertain step forward. This was getting too eerie for my tastes.

"…Liech?" But Liechtenstein did not turn, nor did she answer. She just kept staring into an empty corridor with those eyes of hers – eyes that always seemed on the verge of tears.

"….Wait!" Liechtenstein ran into the corridor. Ran like something in the darkness had called out to her. Ran like a girl possessed.

"Liech!" She stopped. And turned a bit. She was paler than ever – and tears were flooding from her eyes. All right, I said to myself, this is where it ends. We're walking straight out of here, and never coming back. But Liechtenstein – she took step backward.

"I'll…. Be right back. Please, Norway… don't follow me. Wait for me here. Please." She turned and ran. She was gone – the mansion had swallowed her up whole. All I could think of was the pain written in big distressed letters all over her, just before she vanished. I'd been so transfixed by that, I hadn't even been able to lift a finger to stop her. Damn it. I hated myself at times like these.

"Wait for you here, eh?" No way in hell. I ran after her. Except where'd she go? This place was so massive that it would take me ages to inspect all the rooms. And I didn't have much time here. Why was I so sure? Because of that look on Liechtenstein's face, right before she ran off. Sure. I'd seen her cry lots of times. Unfortunately. Not abnormal. But I'd never seen her look so sad or so pained. I had to find her. Soon. I ran deeper and deeper, through twisting corridors and serpentine passageways. It was getting darker. And the deeper I went, the more black butterflies I saw flitting about. They were all swarming about the entrance to a single room. The door was shut. The butterflies danced over head. I put my hand on the doorknob and pulled – but it felt like it was locked.

"Liech, are you in there?" No answer. She'd told me not to follow her. It made sense that she'd lock the door behind her. A good thing to do if you wanted to be alone, but I wasn't going to let that happen. "Sorry, but that's not going to work." I fished in my pockets, and came out with two long pins. Then I went to one knee and stuck them into lock. It was pretty simple. In the end, it took me only a few minutes to open the lock. But each second felt like an eternity.

"Liech?" I burst into the room. I could not see the ceiling – there were so many butterflies nestled up there. I could not see Liechtenstein anywhere, either. What I _could _see was a desk, and a stack of papers on top of it. I walked over and looked. The papers were filled with tiny cramped handwriting, no doubt written by a hurried hand.

'In a sense, our lives consist of a long series of chemical changes, mediated by what amounts to a set of electric signals from the brain. These signals are data. These data are memories. And as for these memories – what are they?'

What was this, some kind of scientific treatise?

'It is not known how memories are formed, or how they fit inside the confines of our brains. It is likewise not known how an individual can call up an individual memory at will, and relive it as if it were the real thing. We have sensory organs, which accept all stimuli, and transmit them through nerves to the brain. The brain records and synthesizes these impulses, and reconstructs for us the reality that we can see and feel and taste and hear. Theoretically, then, if it were possible to reverse-engineer this program, it would be possible to reproduce – or even _create _– memories at will.'

'In practice, this is not possible yet. Even if it were – I have no way of storing memories externally or synthesizing new ones. Also, there is too much that is unknown about the brain and its operating systems at this point in time.'

'What I _have _demonstrated, however, is that it is possible to extract the one memory that lies at the root of a test subject's neural networks. In other words, I have proven that I can reconstruct the one memory – without omission or flaw – that a test subject would choose to preserve even at the expense of all others.'

On the right margin of this paper, there was a diagram of a black butterfly. Its caption: 'trigger device'. I looked up at the swarm of butterflies over head…. And I felt sick at my stomach.

'I have no faith in my own memories. What in this diary is this true? What is not? What did I really feel? What did my mind simply manufacture? I have no way to know.'

'Therefore, I will become the first test subject when this system becomes fully operational. It is fondest desire – to know the truth. About this reality. About myself –.' The writing ceased here, and continues on the next page. I was reaching to pick that page up from the desktop, but I stopped when I read what was written on the top.

'It is my fondest desire – to know the truth. About this reality. About myself – or so I thought, but then I got bored and stopped.'

"…..What?" What the hell kind of scientific report ended this way? I was completely disgusted by now, but there was still a little more to read. Well, I'd gotten this far – might as well finish it. 'Besides…..' and then a butterfly fluttered down from the ceiling, and landed on my forehead. I brushed it off – only to see a very familiar form standing before me. What was this? The perfect reconstruction of memory of which the treatise spoke? I rubbed my eyes frantically – but this was no dream. She was there in front of me. In truth. Not in a dream.

"Liech, I was looking for you." Liechtenstein jumped in surprise. Then she turned – slowly – and walked toward me – even more slowly. She looked black. And stunned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… um… Norway?"

"Hmmmm?"

"…No, it's nothing." She shook her head slowly, and then she noticed the piece of paper in my hand. "What is that?"

"Some kind of experimental report. Really boring stuff. Worst handwriting I've ever seen. The letters are all squiggly and crampled – really hard to read."

"Hmph?"

"But fortunately for us, this report also tells us how to exorcise the ghost in this house. So let's do that, and get out of here." Liechtenstein just looked up at the butterflies on the ceiling. And then she looked back at me. And then she nodded softly.

* * *

><p>We talked about the contents of the reports as we walked toward AROMA.<p>

The sun was hanging low in the western sky by now – our long shadows beat tattoos on the streets and storefronts of our city. Liechtenstein's outlines were soft and gentle in the orange light of this dying day. "So. What you mean is: when a butterfly contacts your head – you relive a memory? The memory dearest to you?"

"Something like that. But there's no practical application, as the butterflies only really function inside that room. Although I suppose if you chose to seclude yourself there… anyway, it's scheduled to be demolished. Once that happens, it'll never function ever again."

"And you won't report this to your superiors?"

"Correct." True enough – the research and the science behind it would be lost forever if I didn't tell someone else about it. Perhaps there was something wrong about that. But it was far more wrong to continue to use this technology against the will of the original creator.

"I see…." Liechtenstein smiled at this. "Hey, Norway? What did you see?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." I said light. Liechtenstein looked at me strangely for a moment, and then focused her eyes on the road ahead. We walked together in silence for a time.

"Norway?"

"Hmmm?"

"Um. Uh. Well… would you mind… holding my hand?" I could see the blush rise to her face. I could feel the pleading in her eyes. But she saw how startled I was by this – and quickly started retracting her request. "Um. We don't have to do it if you don't want to. Not for long. How about until that lamp? Would that be okay?" She pointed at the street lamp that was just starting to flicker on, less than a block away.

"We can hold hands until we get to AROMA, if you want. I don't mind."

"…Um. That would be embarrassing."

"You think?" I smiled, and held out a hand. Liechtenstein took it – held it tight – as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Less than dozen steps to the lamp. I wanted this time to last – so I slowed down. And I asked: "Did you see anything, Liech?" Liechtenstein looked up at me; she didn't look like she knew what to say. But then she finally nodded.

"I did. I was so happy. Even if it was a ghost. I didn't care. It was wonderful…"

"I'm happy for you then.."

"Sure. But you know…" She squeezed my hand gently, and continued on. "In the end… it wasn't real." She smiled up at me. But I did not smile back. All I could think was how to report concluded.

'It is my fondest desire – to know the truth. About this reality. About myself – or so I thought, but then I got bored and stopped. Besides…'

'…If truth exist, I've already found it. My life – the joy and the pain and the uplift and the sorrow – doesn't belong inside the confines of this small room.'

'It belongs right here…. Right here, in my own two hands….'


	10. Chapter 10: We were classmates once

**A/N:** Seems like Liechtenstein and Norway are having a little cute progress.

Anyway, here's the new Chapter. Reviews makes me sob ;w; I feel the love.

Prussia's POV to see what this **awesome** guy thinks. Reminiscing the old times. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p><strong>We were classmates once and young<strong>

Ya know what I really hate? Losin'. Suck, dunnit? So if you're gonna play at all, don't screw around – play to win. Yeah. That's what _I'm _talkin' about. Now, what do good girls do? I'll get straight to the point – they wolf down everythin' I set in front of them, and ask for seconds! I guess that means the girl who's currently gracin' my counter with her presence is an _awfully _good girl. Dude – just watch her eat, I tell ya! 'course, I got no problem with that. How could I? Little Li's a real sweetheart, after all. And a bona-fide cutie. Now, Norway and Little Li – they come 'round these parts two, three times a week, maybe. This is pretty special, ya see – in all the time I've know he man, he's never brought a single one of his Guest over here. Until now.

Guess I don't blame him. He's not used to his Guest being a girl, haha. Probably has no idea what to do, ya get what I'm sayin'? Anyway, he's not here right no. I'm guessin' he's gone off to HQ to make his progress report, or somethin' like that. It's been… what… three weeks now since he started treatin' Liechtenstein. Makes sense that the higher-ups would want to know what he's been up to in that time, eh? So what's Liechtenstein doin' here, you ask? Relax, relax I'm just getting' to that. Norway probably thought little Li'd be bored all by her lonesome. I'm guessin' that's why he brought her here. Said he had some errands to run, and stepped out after that. Haven't seen him since…. I tell ya, man, sometimes I have _no clue_ what's goin' on in that big head of his. I've been watchin' him and Liechtenstein for weeks now – sometimes, he's the biggest blockhead alive; others, he's got her wrapped around his little _finger_, ya know? Anyway, it looks like our little princess is all done. Not a thing left one her plate. Awesome! And she's lookin' up at the shelves around the counter. Ah. Probably admirin' my bottle collection.

"Prussia. Been meaning to ask. What are those?" This I like. She's so open, so to the point. When she's happy, she laughs. When she's sad, she cries. And when she's curious, she asks. I guess that's why I never, you know, give her the straight dope at first. Too much fun, ya hear?

"Oh, those? Tools of the trade, little lady, tools of the trade."

"Oh. Spices? Flavorings?"

"Not quite. Try again – I'm talkin' about a slightly different trade. My _real _one, ya know?"

"Your real trade…? But I thought you were the owner and operator of AROMA?"

"Ahaha, and yer not wrong, either. But I guess Norway never told ya – I'm a Guide, actually." Whoa, dude. Look at the doubt in her eyes. That's harsh, man, that's harsh. "I swear it's true – straight from my lips to God's ears. I guess you've never seen me at work, though. Too bad, too bad…" I put on this serious, depressed face – I get a kick out of how Liechtenstein reacts when I do that – and I pick up a few bottles from the shelves. Then I lay 'em down one by one on the counter, kinda like I'm dealin' cards, for Liechtenstein to inspect. "These, little lady, are what they call essential oils."

"…?" Hmm. Judgin' from the way she's lookin' at me, I don't think she knows what they are. All right, fair enough – so I'll open a bottle up, put a few drops on a handkerchief, and let her sniff it. "Smells like flowers."

"Doesn't it, thought? Now, don't be sniffin' too much, Li. Wouldn't do for me to steal ya away from Norway, would it now?" And sure enough, she hands it back to me. Looks kinda reluctant though, "This is how I roll. Fresh start, too – two birds with one stone, see? They're expensive, though. Run out too fast. Norway has it made, eh?"

"A fresh start?"

"Yep. Helps ya really relax, rest, meditate, whatever. And when yer all done – boom, fresh start!"

"I see…" Heh, whaddaya know. She's picked one of the vials up. And she's staring at it with newfound respect. "And… is this expensive?"

"Huh? Well, yeah, it wasn't cheap. None of them are – and I have to have all sorts, ya know, just in case. Why, d'ya want one?" She nods silently. There's definitely somethin' about the way she's lookin' today, though. Like she's got somethin' on her mind. "…What, feelin' down recently?"

"Yeah. Oh, not me. Norway." For cryin' out loud, girl. Who d'ya think you are? The reincarnation of Mother Teresa or somethin'? Can't help but laugh here.

"Norway, eh? Sorry, I never took him for the sensitive sort."

"Maybe that's wrong. Maybe he's not feeling down. Don't know. All I can say: sometimes, he gets quiet. And cold."

"And yer worried 'bout that?" She looks down for a moment. All quiet – all bashful-like. Then she looks up. And quietly she nods. Damn you, Norway. Next time we meet, I'm gonna open up a can of whoop-ass on ya. "Heh. No need to worry yer pretty head about that, little lady. He just finished treatin' a Guest not too long ago, right? Ya know, the one with the long hair?"

"Yeah"

"Most any Guide is goin' to shut himself up like that after he finish treatin' someone."

"Oh. Really?"

"'Course, it all depends on the individual. But let me tell ya somethin' – this whole erasing memories thing, it always leaves a really bad taste in yer mouth. Sure – our Guests come to us 'cause they _want _to forget. But as for us – we know better. Memories are like people, ya know? They don't wanna die, either. Kind makes ya wonder… and that's why Norway is behavin' that way."

"…"

"But ya know – we can wonder for as long as we want, and it won't change a single thing. I promise, Li – Norway'll be back to his normal self sooner or later. Probably sooner, if ya get what I mean."

"I see. Thank you…" Oh, wow, look at that smile on her face. Man, I'm weak. _Weak! _If she asks me for anythin', I'm gonna end up givin' it to her at this rate. "Prussia. Have you known him for long?"

"Hmmm? Why d'ya ask?"

"You seem to know a lot. About him. And you two get along. So well."

"…Liech, _please_ tell me yer jokin'." I'm makin' some sort of face. I must be – seein' as how Liechtenstein's lookin' back and blinkin' like that.

"Am I wrong?"

"Indeed you are. This is just between you and me, got it, little lady? Well, whatever – he probably knows already. I used to hate his guts."

"Really?"

"Really. What, ya wanna hear more?"

"I… I think so…" For a moment there, I thought she was gonna give up. So much the better, though. So much the better. All right – this is gonna be a long story. First things first. Let's clear off Liechtenstein's plates and silverware, oh, and how about a _digestive? _Ah – hot milk will do. And coffee for me, of course. Now, gotta think about how to say this.

It's all ancient history, after all.

* * *

><p>"Ya probably won't believe a word I'm sayin', but – I used to be real high-class."<p>

"…"

"See? Ya don't believe it, do ya? Well, it doesn't matter to me either way, so don't worry – I won't get mad. Anyway, in our province, there wasn't a single – and I mean not a _single _– person who didn't know of us. I was the sole heir. Can ya believe it? I wasn't a very nice guy back then…"

"Not nice?"

"Yeah, I did all sorts of things that I shouldn't. See, no one could tell me no. And even if somethin' broke – like a car, or a law – I had money comin' out of my ears, then there was my family. You'd be amazed by how many problems go away when yer rich and famous, kiddo… anyway. I'd had enough of all that. Seriously crampin' my style, ya know? I wanted a path of my own – a different one. I was such an _idiot,_ huh? But ya know what really sucked? I had talent – I had the skills to do just about anything I set my mind to. I was totally fearless. Wasn't afraid of anything. Succeeded in everything. Filthy rich. That's why – no one ever got mad at me. No one ever punished me. No one ever set me straight."

"But then, the day I turned seventeen, a black car stopped at our estate. Bunch of government agent types – black suits, goons, ya know. They brought a message from the powers that be: 'your son has been found to have high Guide potential; we will take over his schooling and training from this point on.' Ya know what I thought? That this was bound to happen. That this was awesome. Guide are the _crème de la crème_, the elite, the professionals that every mom wants her son to grow up to be. So I thought it was obvious – after all, how could a brilliant genius like me _not _be selected?"

"…That's not very nice."

"Ahahaha, as I said, I wasn't a very nice guy back then. But honest to God – that's really what I thought back then. Now, everyone knows – once ya become one of us, yer not leavin' this town. But my family never stopped me. They were overjoyed; so proud to have a Guide in the family, ya know? So I came to this here town, my head held high and all. That's when I met Norway. That's right, kiddo, he and I were classmates."

"I see. So you became friends then?"

"Not at all. Exactly the opposite, can ya believe it? Now, people get picked to become Guide all over the country – and they all come here. All shapes and sizes. All ages. Men. Women. Children. Like Norway and me, back then. He and I – we were probably the closest in age, among all our classmates. But we never talked much."

"And why?"

"Because I didn't like him. No interest in him whatsoever."

"See, Liech, I came to be a Guide – I didn't come to make friends. I was going to be the best there was, just like always. But ya know what? Even I have to admit it – Norway blew us _all _out of the water… but he doesn't put on a big show. He just does his thing, all quiet-like. So nobody noticed…"

"But you, on the other hand. You put on a big show. Every day."

"Ahaha. Hey, can ya blame me? I liked the spotlight. I liked bein' the center of attention. I liked bein' admired. Anyway, at some point I decided that Norway was my enemy. No way – _no way – _I was goin' to lose to that chump! No – valedictorian honors belonged to me! Around that time, there was talk – that one of our classmates was an Omega. Class Omega Guides. Now, whaddaya think? Can we say much about 'em? No one's ever seen one. There's no mention of them anywhere in our official case files. They're myths – or they're ghosts. I know of Analye – After all, who _hasn't_ heard of Analye, the Alpha of Omegas? But I had my doubts – did he really exist? I'd never met him, after all – and the only record anyone had of him was his books. Talk about fishy. Anyway— we were ranked according to skill. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon – in order from most to least powerful. We were all rivals in that, so to speak but an Omega? Here, among us? Couldn't believe it… more likely, I was petty and jealous. No freakin' _way _anyone was gonna be better than me."

"…I see."

"Yeah, I can look back at it and laugh now. 's okay – you can go ahead too. Anyway, here was I? Oh yeah. So I got a few of my peeps together, in order to find out who this Omega was. Now – we knew that Guests could only leave town via the Eighth Street gate. Which meant – if Omegas existed at all, they'd have to come there. After all, yer memory can't be completely erased until ya have an Omega do it, ya know… So we snuck into the guardpost. 'twas child's play – the guard on duty was a classmate of mind, after all. Then we hid there, and waited until nightfall – we were gonna wait 'til the military police changed shifts, and then slip out of town entirely and out there – we'd find out whether Omegas existed or not. 'sides, I wanted to make a fool of Blackiris. His guard shift was up next, after all."

"…That's low."

"Oh, c'mon, Lil Li, don't be like that. We were young, and dumb, ya know? Me in particular. Anyway, things _didn't _go to plan. At all. Now that I think 'bout it, there was no way the plan would have worked, anyhow. The guardpost was completely locked-down after dark, ya dig? We were totally trapped. No way to get out – and no way to get back into town, either."

"…."

"Talk 'bout _stupid._ I totally _lost_ it then. If they found out what I'd done, I was gonna be expelled. And if _that _happened, there was no way I could go back to my family. I'd end up as a fugitive, a wanted man. Isn't that somethin'? I— who'd played at bein' an outlaw when I was young – was _scared_ of the possibility now. And just then, who showed up but the devil himself, Norway. Now, he was our only chance to get back in town – but at the same time, there was no way he was gonna help us. And no way he _could, _even if he wanted to. The MPs had the key to this guardpost. We were locked in."

"Talk about hopeless. But Norway found us. He made this scary face – I tell ya, it froze me to the bone. Then, he, uh, picked the lock. It took him a couple seconds. Boom, just like that. The way he was just standing there— cool, unflappable— sent shivers down my spine, I'm tellin' ya. Just who the hell was this guy?"

"So I asked him: whatcha gonna do? And guess what he said?"

"I dunno?"

"'It's none of my business if you want to commit suicide. But do it somewhere else. I will be a Guide at all cost. I don't need you to stand in my way'. I mean, _whoa!_ Makes my spine tingle just thinkin' about it even now. What the hell kind of monster _was _he?"

"….Wow. He's so different now."

"I guess so, kiddo. He wasn't a very nice guy back then either, see. But that incident showed me somethin'. I wasn't any match for him, from the very beginning. And I never would be. I dunno where he came from. I dunno why he wanted to become a Guide. But what I do know is this: There was no way a lazy fool like me, who was skatin' by on his talents, could ever rival him."

"…"

"After that, we were forced to work with each other, and that's how it all went down. Got all that, little lady? We actually don't like each other that much." But now she's shakin' her head. And smilin' at me like an angel.

"No. He thinks of you as a friend. He just acts otherwise. Because he can't help it either. He doesn't say yes. Doesn't say no. Doesn't say what he likes. Doesn't say what he dislikes. In that sense. You're much more grown-up than he is."

"I s'pose. I do wonder, though – why does he do that to himself?" I shrug for her benefit. She laughs right on schedule. Man. She's cute. Cute as a button. So cute It kinda sorta makes me wanna try somethin'. "Our competition isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. That story I toldja— that was just a mulligan. See, if yer gonna play at all, ya don't screw around – ya play to win. Yeah. That's what _I'm_ talkin' about. I'm gonna live my life the way I want to – and someday, I'll be so much happier than he is. That's how I'm gonna win…. So let's cut the chase, shall we, little lady? Wanna become so much happier with me?" I can see her eyes go round as saucers from across the counter. I mean— any other normal person would realize it was a joke, and laugh it off. But no, Lil Li here— she takes everythin' so seriously.

"Um… uh.." And ya know what else is fun to watch? The way her cheeks are getting' redder and redder. All right! Time to move in for the _kill!_ Except, uh, who's that at the door?

"….Just what do you think you're doing?" Norway looks none too pleased. He's got powder snow all over his coat – it's started again.

"Whaddaya think, man? I was confessing my undying love for her. Think I got rejected, though."

"Good for you. Liechtenstein, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes…."

"Now, Lil Li, remember— yer lips are sealed, right?" I wink— and sure enough, Liechtenstein blushes… right before noddin' back.

"What were you talking about?"

"Sorry. Top secret."

"Uh-huh…"

Liechtenstein looks all cute now, smilin' and laughin'. Norway, on the other hand, just looks kinda disgruntled. I'll take it— a little, pointless victory is better than none at all, eh? "All right, kids – it's gettin' late, so you'd better be headin' home. Be careful out there, ya hear? The roads are getting' really bad— wouldn't want either of ya to slip and fall."

* * *

><p>They're walkin' down the stree, both of them. Liechtenstein stopped to say goodbye to me while Norway strode outside, but now she's far ahead of him. Um, hopefully she won't fall. To me— and all the world— they look like lovers. But they aren't. They're a Guide and his Guest. That's really to bad, don'tcha think? He was a scary guy back then, Norway was. Always glacial. Always mad. Murderous, even. But he's not like that anymore, not these days. That isn't because he's gotten nice all the sudden, though. It's just that… he's not interested. In any other people. Or himself. It'd be so much better, in some ways… if she weren't his Guest. That's the truth, straight from God's mouth to my ears.<p>

But that'll never happen, will it now? She has… the right… to have her memories erased. To leave this town. To walk out into the world. To be happy again. Oh well. No use thinkin' about this. Might as well tidy up— gotta put these phials back where they belong. But wait— there goes the doorbell. I got a new customer. Never seen her 'round these parts before.

And she's totally beautiful. Happiness, huh? Maybe this is the way it goes. So I straighten up; I put on my best smile; and I turn to her and say:

"Welcome!"


	11. Chapter 11: The Stray

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews! I really thought no one likes this pairing. Enjoy this chapter. Things will be bumpy and sorry for the late update; I got caught up with stuffs in the real world. Party and stuffs. Anyway, Merry Christmas and Advance Happy new year.

Minor typo and grammar errors. Have no time for Beta.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Hetalia even if I cut the sky in half.

**The Stray**

'…If we accept the premise (and we must) that killing a man's memory is equivalent to killing the man himself— then a Guide is a destroyer of worlds'. Analye was the one who wrote that. And I was the one who killed Analye. I remember how heavy the gun felt in my hands. It was the weight of the world. I couldn't hold onto it. I let it all fall to the ground. A kitten came and curled up, next to the wretched man. Next to the fallen Alpha of Omegas. She started wailing.

It was piteous.

The kitten turned toward me. Her eyes narrowed. She cried out— just once. I could see the look on her face. She _knew_. And _I_knew. She was saying: "Get away from me." I don't know why. Not even to this day— I don't understand it. I couldn't take another step.

Liechtenstein liked doing laundry when it was clear out like this. A nice sunny day was rare thing indeed in this land of ice and snow, and she certainly making the best of it. I mean— she was bustling back and forth out there in the garden, hanging clothes out to dry. Dancing about. A hind of a smile on her face, even. I stood by the window and watched her fro awhile. She really _did_ look like she was having fun out there. Good, good. I was about to turn away when she suddenly stooped over. I wondered if she's slipped on a patch of ice or something, but then she stood. She didn't seem hurt. But when she turned toward me, she was holding a puppy in her arms.

She looked worried, real worried. She cradled the little creature as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. The puppy was in bad shape, all right— it was limp and unresponsive in her arms. I watched as Liechtenstein gingerly made her way back inside. She was at my side before I even heard the door close. She looked like she was about to cry.

"I-I'm so sorry! I dropped a wet sheet. But accident. On this little one." And sure enough, there was a sheet billowing about on the ground outside…. We'd have to take care of thet sooner or later, but this puppy was going to have to take priority. It licked— rather, it made a feeble attempt to lick— my fingers when I reach out to touch it. "I shouldn't have, right? If I hadn't been doing laundry, then…"

"We would have nothing to wear, and then we'd _really_be sorry. In any case, this isn't your fault." I picked a dry towel out from the laundry basket, wrapped the puppy up, and placed it back into the basket. Then I headed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Oh, good, we had some milk left. I poured some out into a pan and started warming it. I removed it from the heat before it started to boil, grabbed some bread, and came back to the living room. The puppy's eyes suddenly snapped open; its black nose started twitching; its tail started wagging. It had freed itself from the towel and jumped out of the laundry basket by the time I'd finish dunking the bread into the milk. "Liechtenstein, hold the puppy for a bit, will you?"

"O-okay." She did as I said. I don't think she had any idea what to make of the puppy's sudden vigor. Meanwhile, I waited for the milk to cool down. After a minute or two, I dipped a finger into the pan— good, not scalding anymore. This would do. I put it down on the floor.

"All right, you can let go now." The puppy jumped off of her lap the moment she let go. It made a beeline for the pan, and started demolishing its meal. Of course, Liechtenstein couldn't take her eyes off the puppy the entire time. "It was probably just hungry… remind you of somebody, hmm?" Liechtenstein scowled at me briefly. But she couldn't stay mad at me for long— soon enough, a little smile came to her face as she watched the puppy lapping up the milk.

"Bread and milk? Is that good enough?"

"Well— proper dog food would have been better. But we don't have any, so— this'll have to do."

"And you've had pets before?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well. You look like you know what you're doing. As if you've done this before."

"….I had a cat once. A kitten. Really cute little girl. She went her own way before long, though."

"Hmph. Wait a second." Liechtenstein suddenly reached out grabbed something on the puppy's neck. The puppy, of course, was too busy wolfing down that must have been its first meal in days to notice. A collar: And on it, a gold-plated nameplate.

"So this is someone's pet. Can you make anything out?"

"Jackal…"

"So. That's his name. How wonderful."

"Wait. There's something else. An address. On Seventh Street…"

"Seventh Street? He came all the way from there? No wonder he's in this condition…" His meal obviously finished, Jackal came ambling toward where Liechtenstein was sitting on the living room floor. He turned around a couple of times and finally curled up with his head on her lap. He closed his eyes and settled into a contented sleep. "His owner's probably a girl. Such a pushy little guy, don't you think?"

"Maybe. But his owner's probably worried sick. Probably looking for him. Can we go? Take him to Seventh Street?"

"Sure. If we keep him here, he'll end up eating everything in the house anyhow. We'll get going once he wakes up." And so we waited. I sat in a chair and read a book. Liechtenstein, on the other hand, sat motionless on the ground, as if she did not wish to disturb the dog's sleep. Soon enough, Jackal rolled a little and started shuddering. Liechtenstein looked up at me as if she had no idea what to do. "He's still half-asleep, that's all. Give him some time…"

"R-Really. Doesn't seem that way…" By now Liechtenstein had started shuddering herself. But Jackal finally opens his eyes with a big yawn. Then he got to his feet. After a long, leisurely stretch, he looked up at us. With an unmistakable grin. And a wagging tail.

"All right, let's go.. wait, do they allow pets on the trolley?" No, they didn't as a matter of fact. Which meant we were going to have to hoof it.

"We're going on a walk? How nice, huh, Jackal?" I looked at the two of them; they were quite the sight. I didn't know who looked happier about this turn of events— Jackal, or Liechtenstein. Usually, this kind of exuberance would annoy me— but for some reason, not today. So I shrugged. What could I do, after all? I attacked a leash onto Jackal's collar, and then we all walked out the door together.

Now, I had the leash in the very beginning, but Liechtenstein kept looking at me so enviously that I had to hand it over. Although the way Jackal was surging ahead now, there was some doubt as who was walking whom. "Liechtenstein, keep your eyes on the road— otherwise you'll bump into something."

"Oh. Right. Eek!" And so we walked along. Rather, _I_ walked long. Liechtenstein was pulled and dragged this direction and that. You know how they say that sometimes with pets, it's hard to know who owns whom? In this case the relationship was obvious. A large percentage of people in town kept pets. This made sense; most of us were Guest, living out solitary lives. Companionship was always welcome, no matter whether it was furry or scaled or finned. Still, I thought there was something terrible wrong with this. Why was it that pets were more welcome than people here in this walled garden, frozen with ice?

Seventh Street was an urban promenade, filled with narrow streets lined by tall buildings. We Guides lived in these apartment complexes when we were off duty— here, and on Fifth, where I had my place. When it came time to take a Guest, we were given a more spacious residence for the duration of that assignment. Now, Liechtenstein had never seen this place before. Usually, she'd skip along, taking in the sights and sounds at her own pace. There wasn't any chance of that today— Jackal was all over her. A woman— probably a Guide— on her way back from grocery shopping stopped to watch the spectacle. I could hear her giggling softly as we walked by. It took us roughly an hour to find the address that had been written on Jackal's collar tag. We located the apartment number in the doorside directory, and pressed the corresponding buzzer.

But no one answered.

"Maybe no one's home? Now what…?"

"Well, we can't just leave Jackal here and go home. We'll have to try again later."

"Okay. I'm sure the owner is worried…"

Liechtenstein looked hard at the buzzer one last time, and then turned away. As did Jackal.

It was still such a nice day out, so we ended up walking all the way to Café AROMA on Sixth. I could hear voices coming from inside— now _that_ was unusual. But then when I listened a bit more closely, I realized— oh, Prussia was just listening to the radio.

"Welcome… Hey, man, ya heard about what's been goin' on? Bad news, yo, bad news!" Prussia turned to me with a troubled expression on his face, gesturing at the radio all the while.

"Why, what happened?"

"Shoulda known you'd have no idea. An anarchist group claims they planted a bomb at HQ. Now, everyone was evacuated, so no real harm done, but still, man."

"An anarchist group?"

"Eh, they aren't even worthy of that label. Just a bunch of selfish idiots with too much time on their hands, I'm tellin' ya. We oughta do the world a favor, and kill 'em all." Strong words. I'd never seen him this upset before. Also kind of _ironic,_given what he'd told me of his past. Liechtenstein was standing at the door, unsure of whether she ought to come in or not. That was considerate of her – after all, most restaurants didn't allow pets inside.

"Oh, hey little Li… wait, that dog…"

"You know him?"

"No, never seen him before. It's just— a customer of mind lost a do a coupla days ago. Mixed-breed, black fur. Fits the description, don'tcha think?" Talk about finding clues in the strangest place. Liechtenstein's face suddenly lit up. She strode into AROMA with a spring in her step, and with Jackal at her heels.

"This customer. A regular? Coming today, perhaps?" Said Liechtenstein with curiosity.

"Who knows? Usually comes 'round in the evenin', see."

"We went over to the owner's apartment. No one home."

"Heh, ya went during business hours, didn't ya? No wonder— probably still at work, or somethin'."

"And is this a Guide?" Its Norway's turn to ask.

"Apparently. Didn't pry much, though, if ya know what I'm sayin'." Prussia deftly placed a bowl of water in front of Jackal, and lunch in front of us. "Yo. Ya mind if I keep him for a bit?"

"Fine with me." Prussia really did look eager to help, and this would free me up from having to dogsit… but why was he doing this? I didn't know that he liked dogs….

"See, the owner… she's this pretty lil lady. Worried to death 'bout her dog, see. So if I can be of any assistance…." Uh, no, it wasn't that he liked dogs; it was that he was a _horndog._How could I forget? Anyway, it was done deal. Prussia took Jackal. And we took in lunch. After we finished, it was time for us to leave. Liechtenstein clearly didn't want to leave Jackal behind— but she knew that it was better this way. So she petted him on the head gently before heading out the door. Jackal closed his eyes with bliss. And as we walked down the Sixth on our way home, I felt him watching us— or rather, Liechtenstein— from the window. Obviously, she'd made a new friend.

The next time we went shopping, there were news boys in the streets, waving their papers about and yelling at the tops of their lungs. How unusual, I thought— since when does our little town have anything worth writing about? I bought a paper on a whim, and it turned out— another bomb. This time, it was Public Park on Fourth Street. According to the article, the same anarchist group of the HQ bomb incident was to blame. And speaking of HQ…. there was a general proclamation from the high-ups next to the article. It wasn't anything I hadn't already heard a thousand times over: Take extra care. Protect your Guests. Report any suspicious activity immediately. Wasn't this all SOP anyhow? Why reiterate it at this hour? What point would that serve?

Liechtenstein peeked over my shoulder, and read along with me. She looked kind of worried, actually. "I wonder. What do they want…?"

"Hard to say. This much is certain: either Guides are behind this, or we have people who snuck in pretending to be Guests. Either way, it isn't good news."

"A park. Lots of people. Is that what they want? To shake us up? To hurt us?" Interesting. I'd never seen Liechtenstein this upset before. Especially given the fact that the article didn't make any mention of anyone being killed or wounded.

"Well, if they wanted to shake us up, they've certainly succeeded in that. Hard to believe that there's someone out there who'd sneak into this town just to blow stuff up…" It wasn't just us— the entire country was shaken by this news, probably. Which meant— there was a massive manhunt going on even as we stood on the street and read the newspaper. But the thing was— they didn't caught the perpetrators the first time around, either. How was I to have much confidence they'd succeed this time around?

…For that matter, how was I to have much confidence that someone at HQ wasn't feeding information to the terrorists? We headed over to AROMA once our shopping was done. I opened the door, and came face-to-face with a woman who was obviously just about to leave. I started stepping back, so she could get out. But she was faster than I was, and squeeze past me in blink of an eye. In fact, her motions were so brisk that she actually bump into me fairly hard on her way out. Now, it wasn't forceful enough to knock me over or anything— far from it— but I remembered feeling something not quite right touch my arm. Which was why I just thrust my hands into my coat pockets, and stood there in front of AROMA for a bit.

"Norway? Is something wrong?" Liechtenstein asked, obviously wondering why I wasn't going in already.

"Oh, no, it's nothing." I replied with a smile. Prussia was washing dishes when we walked in. He turned, and shook his head slightly when he saw who we were.

"Shoulda come a bit earlier, kids. Jackal's owner was here up 'til a few minutes ago, ya see."

"No kidding? So she's the one I bumped into on the way in."

"Yeah, no doubt. Anyway, she said she wanted t' thank ya in person, so I gave her your current address. She told me she'd be comin' around your place in the evenin'."

"All right." We took our usual seats at the counter. There was a manila envelope sitting there. Liechtenstein eyes it for a second.

"Think this is hers?"

"More than likely. Not a very organized person, is she? First she loses her dog, and now she's leaving her stuff around everywhere…" Liechtenstein picked up the envelope and gave it to me. I put it in my pocket. If that woman really was going to come over later tonight, I might as well give it to her then. Besides, I have bigger fish to fry at the moment. "Hey, Prussia. That lady— does she come here often?"

"Hmmm? Yeah, she's been comin' everyday for an entire week now. Know what the weird thing is, though? Today's the first time I've seen her at this hour— she always stops by at night, right before closin' time."

"Everyday? Then I wonder— perhaps she isn't on assignment right now. If she were, then there's no way she'd come here alone…" Prussia stopped washing mugs for a moment. He turned, and nodded.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

"…I wonder why she comes this often…"

"You gone loco, man? To eat, obviously. And to hook up with me. All right, all right, all jokes aside, she's probably just lonely or somethin'."

"…Lonely?"

"Y'know, man, not everyone likes bein' all alone like you do. In fact, most of us prefer the opposite, thank you very much. 'Sides— if you're not on assignment, you're totally free. Nothin' to do. No one to talk to. Makes sense that someone in that position would come to a place like this, don'tcha think?"

"Perhaps."

"C'mon, Norway, get with the program here. Don'tcha know what goes on in the heart of a lonely woman…?"

"No, and I don't _want_to know, either." I said with a sight and a wry smile. Liechtenstein, on the other hand— well, let's just say that she was eating up every single thing Prussia was saying. I mean— the way her eyes were sparkling, I knew he had her hook, like, and sinker. And I hoped that nothing strange would come of this. "You know your customer well…"

"Well, yeah, of course. 'Sides, she's quite the looker, and… actually, there's osmethin' kinda odd about her…" He trailed off at this point and went on polishing mugs, staring at the door all the while. No matter what I said or did, I couldn't get him to say anything further.

We got back to our place shortly before sunset. Liechtenstein and I were busy making dinner when there was a knock at our door. Now, Liechtenstein had her hands full— literally— with hamburger meat, so I went to see who it was. I looked out the peephole, and sure enough— there was someone standing there. I opened the door a crack.

"Is this the residence of Norway, the Guide? I came to thank you for finger him… er, my dog… a few days ago." For someone who lost track of dogs and envelopes on a regular basis, she was really rather punctual.

I opened the door the rest of the way. Sure enough, there Jackal was. Along with the young woman I'd bumped into at AROMA. Her face stiffened when she saw me. Maybe it was surprise. Maybe it was something else. Anyway, she took a step back, and gave me a look that was closer to a glare than anything. But Liechtenstein came rushing out to the foyer before she— or I— could say anything further. The woman opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when she saw Liechtenstein running toward her.

"So. You're Jackal's master. Isn't that wonderful, Jackal? Aren't you happy to be with her again?" Liechtenstein squatted down to bring herself fact-to-face with the dog. Then she looked up at our guest and inquired, "May I pet him?"

"Oh, of course. He'd love it." The woman finally let a smile creep onto her face. She handed over the leash to Liechtenstein. Who took it gladly. Jackal, on the other hand, started jumping up and licking Liechtenstein's cheeks— even more gladly. Obviously, he remembered who she was.

"Ahahaha, that tickles." When she turned back to me after watching Liechtenstein and Jackal frolic about, there was no hint of iciness left in her eyes anymore.

"My name is Seychelles— I am a Guide. I came here to thank you for taking care of Jackal when he needed t most. So if there's anything I can do for you, please…" She said with a voice as clear as the winter sky. She bowed deeply— her long hair spilled over her shoulders as she did so.

"Oh, no, we didn't do much. If you want to thank someone, go see Prussia… er, the guy who operates AROMA."

"Oh, yes, I've already done so. Oh, and here… I didn't have any idea about how to thank you, so… I brought you some sweets." Seychelles held out a nicely-wrapped package. For a moment, I had no idea whether I should accept it or not— but only for a moment. I took the box. "Well then, I'd best be off." And that's exactly what she would have done had Liechtenstein not stopped her.

"Wait! Seychelles. Would you stay a while? Okay with you, Norway?" I wondered why she was asking met all; this was her place as well, obviously. I nodded anyway. Liechtenstein looked happy about that. "You haven't eaten yet, correct? Care to have dinner with us?"

"But…"

"Um. Also. Love to play with Jackal some more. May I?" Whatever doubts Seychelles might have had— they evaporated at this point. She nodded with a smile.

"Then I'd love to. Thank you very much!" She wiped her feet on the mat— actually, Jackal came bounding up and imitated his master as well— and came on in. And Liechtenstein— well, she was proving herself to be quite the host. She led Seychelles to a chair, brought her a nice cup of tea, and then went back into the kitchen to get dinner done. This left Seychelles and me alone together in the living room. She looked at me every once in a while— obviously, there was something she wanted to say. But I ignored all that. After the cooking was done and the table was set, we took our seats. Seychelles looked totally amazed by the multi-course banquet that had been laid out in front of her.

"Oh, wow. You made all of this, uh…. I don't think I caught your name?"

"Liechtenstein. No. Not all. Norway helped too. No. Wait. More like: he did everything. And I helped him." A few weeks ago, that would have been true. Now it was a lie, though— Liechtenstein turned herself into an extremely good cook in the meantime. She'd come a long way, too— at the very first, it was dangerous to even let her handle a knife. But now— she basically ran the kitchen.

"Oh, wow, I'm looking forward to this. I haven't eaten home cooking for such a long time now…" Seychelles said with a gentle shrug. Liechtenstein just beamed at her.

After dinner, we had coffee and the sweets that Seychelles had brought us. Well, actually, I was the only one eating. Seychelles and Liechtenstein were too busy playing with Jackal to be doing much of anything else.

"Seychelles. You're a Guide. Correct?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Wait— aren't you one as well?"

"Um. I'm…"

"She's my Guest." I completed the sentence for her, as she didn't look like she was going to be able to get it out. Seychelles turned to look at me for a moment. Obviously, this was surprising to her.

"I see… you too… well, see, you get along so well that I thought… Guides have been known to move in together, you know…"

"Oh…. Uh… no…. I, uh…" You know, it was like clockwork these days— whenever anyone said something like this to Liechtenstein, she invariably blushed— and furiously at that— in a matter of seconds. "Have you been one for long? A Guide, that is."

"Oh, no, I've just wrapped up my first year of service, actually."

"I see… wait. Norway. How long have you been one?"

"About three years, I think." We talked about this and that until it became very dark out indeed. Seychelles stood, and indicated that she'd better be heading home. "All right, I'll walk you to the station." Seychelles nodded silently. Liechtenstein piped up— said she wanted to come along too. But I made her stay at home. I expected her to argue; but she looked up at me once, closed her eyes, and nodded.

We walked along for a while. We said nothing to each other. Seychelles kept her eyes fixed on Jackal. I kept mine on the road ahead. But when we reached the copse of trees, she began to talk. "Dinner was delicious! You'll have to tell Liechtenstein thank you for me…. Wait, I _came_ to thank you in the first place, and now…"

"I suppose."

"….Enough small talk. I'd like you to return what you took from me."

"And what might that be?"

"You know as well as I do. You've been holding onto something of mine, ever sine we bumped into each other at AROMA today." She stopped and held out a hand expectantly. I sighed. And smiled bitterly.

"You say that so shamelessly, as if you had nothing to hide. But tell me— what were you doing with a gun, anyhow?" She'd been concealing it, earlier at AROMA, but it was obvious when I bumped into her. Which was why I picked her pocket without a second thought. Because no one other than a military personnel was supposed to have access to firearms in this town.

"Your heart is as black as your hands are stick, I see."

"I'm afraid you ought to be a lot more careful about concealing something like this. You're not getting it back; sory."

"It's for self-protection! I swear! Please give it back!"

"Self-protection against _whom,_I wonder? This town is a peaceful place. Or at least, it would be if not for you and your friends."

"…..!" I brought the envelope out of my pocket. Seychelles went pale— and then started clenching her teeth. "…Did you read it?"

"Obviously. This is a member list of your terrorist cell, isn't it? Makes me wonder why you even bother— so much for secrecy. Although these are all codenames, so there's no way I'd know who these people really are."

"Give it back!"

"So you're either a secret agent investigating the bombings— or you're one of the terrorists. And I happen to know— you're no secret again." She clenched her teeth even harder then— it was a wonder that there weren't bits of enamel flying everywhere by now. But for how hard she was grinding her teeth, her glare itself didn't have much— or any— bite. I wasn't afraid.

"And what will you do?"

"I wonder. This isn't proof of anything, after all. Besides, something isn't right here— there's no way you'd just leave this lying at AROMA, and yet you did."

"What? Wait, that's…."

"Which means that it was intentional… or that you're stupid beyond salvation."

"…Clever of you. So you played dumb in front of Liechtenstein, and yet you knew all along."

"No, actually. I had no intention of hiding my cards. Besides— Liechtenstein knows a lot more than she lets on. You'd be surprised. In any case, I'll be holding onto this. And your gun, too. You're free to do whatever you want, of course— but just remember. So am I. And I won't hesitate to if need be." I put the envelope back in my pocket and walked away.

Seychelles stood there for a long time— she didn't look like she'd really grasped what had just happened. The last I saw of her, was trudging toward the trolley station, in darkness.

Things were quiet for a time. The days went on without fuss. Liechtenstein went on enjoying everything she could. I went on wondering just what kind of use I was as a Guide. There was no news of bombings, or of terrorist groups, or of death. Now news of Seychelles, either— she'd stopped coming to AROMA altogether. Prussia was a little… no, make that _insanely_unhappy about that last bit. The next time I bumped into her was almost a week afterwards, in broad daylight. We'd finished eating lunch at AROMA a per usual and were wandering around the area when Liechtenstein found a bookstore. Now, Liechtenstein loved books. She read them voraciously, no matter what genre they were. Short fiction, nonfiction, horror, romance, science, fiction, fantasy… she devoured them all.

Speaking of which I'd not taken her to the library yet. I'd promised her I'd do some time ago, but then a lot – for instance, the bombing and Seychelles— happened. Which was why it had totally slipped my mind up until now… to be honest, I felt kind of guilty about that. "Liechtenstein, if you find a book you want to read, come get me. I'll be waiting over there on that bench." Liechtenstein nodded with a smile and rushed into the bookstore. Such a simple thing made her so happy. Made me wish I'd figured that our about her a lot sooner. Then again, this was the kind of thing that I never noticed until it was too late…

I looked around the area. It was largely deserted. Here and there, people went about their business. One of them was walking toward me. I looked closely— this was a face I knew. Then she was standing before me.

"I came looking for you, after I heard from Prussia that you'd gone out shopping." She asked me if the seat next to me was taken. I motioned her to it. She sat down. "Listen to me. They know— about the list. I don't think they know that you have it. But still— be careful. You haven't destroyed it, right? If you have— then I can't help you. No leverage, see? So I hope for your sake… oh, speaking of which, I'd like my gun back, please."

"…It's too late for any of that."

"…?" She narrowed her eyes— obviously, she thought I'd set a trap for her or something. I just waved her into silence. Then I motioned her to take a look around us— a good, long look.

"You were followed."

"…..?" I stopped her from trashing about too obviously, and then I sighed Deeply.

"It looks like you can't help me at all."

"….I'm sorry." There was no point in getting angry at her at this point. And in any case— one of our mysterious observers was hiding under the eaves of that building over there, but at that range he probably couldn't make out a word of what we were saying.

"Oh well. Don't worry about it— I'll deal with this myself. You probably ought to go hide somewhere, though. This might get messy."

"What makes you think I'll do that? Give me my gun, please."

"I have no idea what you're planning on doing, but I'll tell you one thing: it won't work." Seychelles just clenched her teeth again for a time. It seemed like forever. Finally, she nodded, stood and left. And although they were trying to be inconspicuous, it was obvious that several people were tailing her. One of them— the man from before— stayed in the area. He was obviously focusing on me. So I gave him no reason for suspicion. I waited there for Liechtenstein, and soon enough, she came running toward me with a heavy-looking bag in her hands.

"I found lots of books. They all look so fun! Makes me really happy!" For a moment, I forgot all my troubles and smiled back at her. But she already caught on that something was up— she looked up at me gravely. I stood up, and we began walking down the street Sure enough, we were being followed. "Norway. Was that Seychelles you were with?"

"Yeah, it was; she seemed like she was in a real hurry."

"I see…" She stopped and looked back for a second, the disappointment obvious on her face. It was really quite amusing to watch the man almost jump out of his skin, and then duck into a store for cover.

"Oh, Liechtenstein— I have something to do, so would you mind waiting for me at AROMA?"

"Hmmm? That's fine… but hmmm.." I smiled ambivalently— I didn't want to say much more to her about what was going on at this point. So we headed on over to AROMA.

Now, obviously, the people who were trailing me knew all about AROMA— they had to, given that they'd originally been after Seychelles. But Prussia could probably take care of one guy easily, and then some. So after I deposited her inside, I walked back out. My shadow looked a little confused as to whether he should stay and observe Liechtenstein or follow me. Eventually, he chose to come after me. I lost him fairly easily as I made my way through the back alleys of Sixth Street. This old quarter of Sixth was a maze of twisty passages, all alike— it was hard to find your way even with a map if you didn't know the area. I wasn't sure that this would be enough, but sure enough— no sign of my follower. So he was even less intelligent than I'd expected.

So I doubled back, and started shadowing _him_. He'd found his way back to Sixth's main promenade by now. He walked toward the trolley station— and then went right past it. He was heading for Fifth Street on foot. Fifth Street was filled with residences. I, of course, happened to live in on of these when I wasn't on duty. The man looked to his left, to his right, behind him. He was obviously spooked. Finally, he shrugged, and walked into an old apartment complex. I found a hiding place, and waited. But my shadow did not re-emerge— instead, it was another man who stepped out into the daylight. A man whose face I knew.

He headed down the street and into the trolley station. I stopped my pursuit at this point. There weren't many passengers on the trolley even on heavy days, so I didn't want to risk discovery. Because if I knew who he was— the opposite had to be true as well.

Liechtenstein was nowhere to be found by the time I got back to AROMA. My heart sank. I turned to Prussia, and asked him what had happened.

"Oh yeah, that lady who owns Jackal came by a bit ago. Said you had somethin' of hers that she needed, double-quick. So Liechtenstein went with her, to find ya. Why, what's—."

I sprinted out of the place before Prussia could finish his sentence. Damn it all. It was too late now— but for crying out loud, I should have told Prussia that something was up! Seychelles probably thought that her list and her gun were at our place on Eighth Street. No wonder— so that's why she went after Liechtenstein. I caught the next trolley to Eighth. The train hadn't even stopped when I jumped off and started sprinting down the streets. When I got to the copse of trees, I noticed the profusion of footprints, all around. Big ones. And little ones. Liechtenstein's.

This was just getting worse and worse.

I checked to see that I had the gun on me, got ready to whip it out at a moment's notice, and kicked open the door to our place.

The house was completely silent. It had obviously been ransacked— but there wasn't a soul around anymore. No, actually, Seychelles was sitting motionlessly on the living room floor. Although I was beginning to doubt that she _had_ a soul. "Seychelles! What did you do to her?" She looked up slowly, as if her mind were swimming in mud. Then her eyes opened wide. She took my arm and refused to let it go. She was shaking.

"I…. oh my God, I'm so sorry… I thought I'd lost them for sure, but…" Great. She was going to _have_ to calm down. Now. We were just wasting time here. Although I did have one crucial piece of evidence now: she'd been followed to our place. That's why the terrorists knew to strike here. "…Sorry about that. I think I'm fine now." She let go of my arm, took a few bi breaths, and began to explain what had happened. "So I came to your place— I wanted to get my gun back from you, at the very least. But the moment I got into the house, a couple men from the group rushed me— three, maybe four. They took me down pretty quickly. Liechtenstein tried to help me, but…"

"…She was taken hostage, was she?"

"Most likely… they'll probably demand the list in exchange for her."

"And? Do you know where they are?"

"…I have no idea. They've been operating from an apartment on Fifth, but they know something's up now— if they're intelligent at all, they'll have moved to another safehouse by now." Great. Now what? If I proceeded about this the wrong way, Liechtenstein was going to be in grave danger. But I couldn't just sit here and do _nothing…_ "I'm sorry. This all happened because I was sloppy— so I'll make things right. Somehow. I'll be fine." She said as she got up off the floor. She certainly didn't _look_ fine— her face was pale, and her legs were shaking a bit. I sighed. And stopped her before she went out the door.

"I appreciate the sentiment. But you'd better stop."

"But…!"

"If you fail, then you won't be the only one who dies— Liechtenstein will, too. So that'd quite enough out of you."

"…." She looked like she was about to cry. Out of frustration. And anger. I surveyed the wreckage around the room. Poor Liechtenstein— all her tidy housework had gone to waste. Our assailants had obviously been very thorough in their search. "But I have to do _something…!_ We _have_to save Liechtenstein!"

"And that's exactly what I'm going to do." But Seychelles just shook her head violently.

"It's my fault this all happened— yes, that's true. But there's something else. She knew about me. She knew— everything. And still she tried to rescue me."

"…So you told her about the group, then?"

"Ye. There wasn't any way I could avoid it. She made me say everything— just what it was you'd taken from me, just how dangerous it would be. And then she brought me to your place. They tried to take me hostage too, you see— but she assured them that she'd be sufficient. They believed her."

….Suddenly, a line from a book I'd once read flashed into my mind. Something about idiocy, claptrap, hysterical folly. Roughly in that order. But I also realized— with dawning horror— that it was _just like Liechtenstein_to do something like this.

"She's such a good girl." She said with regret. "I love her— in my own way. I consider her my friend. That's why I'm coming with you— whether you like it or not."

"…Very well. Not like you'd take no for an answer anyway. Let's get going. Even if the group tries to contact us. They won't come here to do it. You have a telephone at your place?"

"No. I don't find it necessary." Fair enough. Not many people in town had telephones. And the reason for that was simple enough: Many of our Guests had an extreme aversion to them— and their incessant ringing.

"Then we'd better head to AROMA."

"I agree. If they decide to get in touch with us, it'll be there." There was no point in searching around blindly— that would hurt more than it would help. So for now, we were going to have to wait. I knew that, intellectually. But still, emotionally this was hard to take. Every moment we sat still was another moment that Liechtenstein was in a hostile party's hands.

My fears, however, were unfounded. Prussia was waiting for us by the time we got to AROMA. There had already _been_ contact.

"They want ya to bring the list to the old chuck on Fifth, in one hour sharp. Now— wouldja mind tellin' me what the hell is goin' on here?" And tthat's exactly what I did. Prussia was more correct than he knew— this was Hell, all right. I told him everything: about the gun, the list, Liechtenstein's kidnapping, and about how Seychelles was a member of the terrorist cell. Prussia was completely blown away. "You're really with them? No freakin' kiddin'?"

"….No kidding. Although it seems that I've become a traitor."

"…." It was startling to watch the way that Prussia was studying Seychelles now. He wasn't just staring at her the way he usually ogled beautiful young women. No— this was a hard, emotionless glare. He saved it for rivals and enemies. Like me. Sometimes. But I had no time for any of his today.

I left AROMA, with Seychelles hot on my heels. Prussia looked like he wanted to come with us, but eventually I had him stay put. Now, it was true that someone _had_to stay behind just in case there was any further contact. But still, I knew that I was dealing him a harsh hand here.

It had started snowing by the time we made it into the trolley station. Neither of us had umbrellas. Our heads were dusted with snow. We didn't care. Seychelles kept pace at my side. Her eyes were straight forward. Her entire body was quivering with tension. And yet— she seemed far more at home within herself now than the first time I'd met her.

"Tell me— how come you're not asking me about the leader of the cell?"

"Because I know who he is— I saw him myself. He's a high-ranking processor of Guides. Never had a class with him, though."

"Right." That's right— the man I saw coming out of the apartment on Fifth Street— there was no mistaking him. Everyone in my class during training days knew who he was. A figure like that would have access to every last operational file that HQ had to offer. No wonder nobody had been able to bring these terrorists to justice. "And don't you want to know what our goals are?"

"Not at all. I told you before— you're free to do as you please in this town. But if you lay so much as a finger on my Guest— _and that's exactly what's happened—_then there'll be Hell to pay." Seychelles looked up at me in silence for a time. Then, finally, she spoke. In a voice as cold as steel.

"She's probably safe. He's not as horrible as you're making him out to be…" Not horrible enough to hurt Liechtenstein, but just horrible enough to explode bombs on innocent people, eh? My. I was _so_impressed by his compassion. Seychelles saw the look on my face, and smiled painfully. "Very well. I see there'll be no convincing you… so I'll just tell you. Whether you believe me or not— that's up to you." She looked up at the snow-laden clouds, as if this were to be the last time her eyes would see them. And then she started to talk.

"Total emancipation. They want to breakdown the bureaucracy. It clearly doesn't work. Guides should serve anywhere and everywhere, not just in this isolated location."

"That's not doing us all favors at _all."_They constructed this town precisely _because_it was dangerous for Guides out in the real world. A Guide's powers— and his control over them— were incredibly unstable things— and on top of that, most people hadn't even heard of us. If people knew, then we were going to have a bloody uprising on our hands, nationwide.

"Perhaps. But according to him, he wants to make sure Guides have power— enough power to help the weak."

"The weak? How arrogant. I suppose his goal is to create a new trade network of Guides— and profit until he's filth rich, hmm?"

"I wonder… perhaps you're right, perhaps not." Seychelles shook her head then, in a futile attempt to shake off the demons in her heart. There was nothing but confusion and anger and loss in her eyes. "I met him during one of our Standardized Patient Encounters. I was just a student there— and he taught me so well. Speaking of which… tell me, how many years did you graduate in?"

"Two."

"….The genius accelerated course. Somehow I'm not surprised. But you'll excuse me if I'm just a little envious. It took me seven years. In other words— I've been here for far longer than you have." Seychelles laughed, her voice filled with self-derision. Obviously, she knew— this wasn't something you boasted about. "I entered the Academy when I was 12. 12, can you imagine that? I didn't know anything— about Guide, the world, anything. And on top of that, I was a dunce. No one liked me. No one helped me along. I was so lonely…. But he was the one— he was the one who came and held my hand. He was the one who told me that it was okay, that'd turn out fine…"

"….You're in love with him?"

"Yeah. Or was. Right now I have no idea. I don't know if I really was in love with him… or if I was just lonely, and willing to accept any companionship that came my way." She kept talking, as if by doing so she'd be able to extract the purest darkness of her heart from the very words that fell from her mouth. Who was she conversing now? Who was she listening to? Certainly not me. "These are all things I've really come to hate about myself, but… I think it might be too late for me now… would someone like you have any idea how that feels? Probably not."

"….No, I understand. A little."

"Oh?" Seychelles said with surprise. Then she smiled. "Oh, good heavens. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How come I can't be honest with myself, in even one little thing?"

"So that's why you left the list at AROMA? That was your attempt to try to stop the cell from doing anything more, is that right?"

"That's right. I didn't have the courage to send it to HQ. But I was hoping— if I got to know the owner of AROMA, and _accidentally_ left the list lying around, he would pick it up and take the appropriate steps. And I was pleasantly surprised, too…. He's a really nice guy. And I've caused _him_ so much trouble now too…." Now I was glad Prussia wasn't here— had he heard any of this, I think he'd have spiraled into an uncontrollable depression. Or into an uncontrollable rage. Either way, something uncontrollable… and _bad._I would have been much better had she just been open and honest with us from the very beginning.

"And the final nail on the coffin is— my powers are dying. Back in the old day, I used to be able to pick up on people's thoughts a lot more easily— but nowadays, I can't even catch a glimpse. You get kicked out of town if you're not a Guide anymore, right? That's why— I wanted to put an end to this before I got deported…"

"I see…." I nodded. I had no idea whether it was a good idea to tell her what I was about to tell her. But she looked so sad and alone at that moment that I didn't really have a choice in the matter. "A Guide's powers will inevitably fade… when he is filled to capacity?"

"What?"

"Or at least, that's what the textbooks say." Seychelles smiled ambiguously at this. Burnout. The signs were obvious. She was very close. If she remained alone in this state for much longer, she was in danger of losing her powers permanently. In some ways, this was the happiest thing that could happen to her— or any Guide….

They were waiting for us at the old church on the Fifth. The professor and two others. Liechtenstein was lying motionless on one of the church benches. "No need to worry now, son— I've just drugged her, that's all. She hasn't been hurt." The professor said with a smile as he ruffled Liechtenstein's hair. Liech shuddered a bit, and then was still again. "Have you brought the list?" I took the envelope out of my pocket. I opened it up and unfolded the piece of paper, and showed it to him. "Good. Now, hand it over to Seychelles, and send her over here." Seychelles jumped in surprise. She stared hard at the professor and then she finally nodded. She'd decided at last…

So she took the envelope and walked slowly to the professor's side. Her eyes, her face, her body— there was bitterness oozing out of every pore as she approached her lover. She handed the envelope over to him, and rushed directly to Liechtenstein's side. But that moment she knelt to examine Liech, one of the men pulled out a gun and held it to her head. Seychelles felt the ring of cold steel, and turned to the professor.

"What are you doing?"

"This isn't something a traitor has the right to know…" He turned to me, bringing his arm up to aim a gun at me. But I was faster— mine was already pointed at him. He stared at me as if he'd seen a ghost— obviously he hadn't expected this. "And? Are you going to shoot? Are you going to try to kill me?"

"That'd my line, thank you very much. This isn't your lucky day— all I want is for my Guest to be safe. And you happen to be in the way." The professor's mouth fell open. He stared at me in total disbelief. He couldn't tear his eyes away, no matter how hard he tried. He started trembling. Cold sweat started running down his face. He grew paler and paler. He looked cold. I simply stared back at him. With a look that froze him to the spot. "When I was younger, I was considered a crack shot with these. If this were a gunfight, you'd have no chance…" My index finger tightened on the trigger. The professor gulped loudly. His eyes rolled upward, and then all consciousness and light faded from him. "….but you don't even deserve that."

He crashed to the ground. I fired a shot into Seychelles' captor's legs without a moment's hesitation. The man doubled over. Seychelles sprung into action, jarring the man behind her off balance, stripping him off his gun, and throwing him. And while he was _still in the air_, she brought up a knee in a blinding strike— right to his chin. Good night— he wasn't going to be seeing anything for a very long time.

"Impressive. _Most_impressive. So you _can_take care of yourself."

"Th-this is nothing much… but that's not important right now.." She pocketed the gun she'd taken from her assailant, gave him another kick for good measure as he flopped on the ground, and then turned to look down at the fallen professor.

"Just a short bolus of amnesia. He'll recover soon enough."

"You're a dangerous man, you know— and your powers are even more so."

"That's precisely why I remain here." She nodded. So she finally understood. Tears were streaming down her face. I didn't know if it was because she realized that she'd sold her lover out— or if it was because she felt some pity for him in his prostration. I didn't know, and I didn't care, either.

Because she stopped crying soon thereafter. And she never cried again.

Liechtenstein woke up in due course, and then we started heading home. A cleanup team from HQ would be here soon enough. Prussia had taken care of that – at least, I presumed.

"Oh wow, how embarrassing. I didn't want to cry… were you watching?" Seychelles said as she rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. For once, Liechtenstein was walking a little bit behind me – she probably didn't feel so well right now.

"No, I wasn't. Which means I was, of course." Seychelles nodded a little crossly. A little while later, she nodded again, came close indeed, and kissed me on the cheek. I happened to be looking at Liechtenstein at that moment – and I was amused to watch her eyes snap open as big as saucers.

"Be a good boy and forget for me, please?" I nodded. And smiled. Liechtenstein took offense to this, and went running past me as fast as her little feet could take her. Seychelles stuck her tongue out at me. Obviously, she was trying to taunt me – so I was in big trouble now, eh? I merely sighed, and said to her,

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't work on me. Although I think it might be better if we both forgot this little experience."

"I agree."

I saw the new light in her eyes. At last – she finally understood. It was okay for her to be free of that man's shadow. "If you like, there's much better man I know who'd love to meet you…. Although he's a pretty big rascal, if you ask me."

"Ahahaha, I'm looking forward to it!" She smiled at me mysteriously, and then looked up at the sky. The snow drifted down from the low-hanging clouds onto her hair and her cheeks – and melted away. Liechtenstein remained silent the entire time – even after we'd parted with Seychelles and were well on our way home to Eighth Street. I was getting a little concerned at this point, so I said to her.

"Hey, Liechtenstein, are you mad?" Liechtenstein stopped in her tracks. She turned to me, shook her head, and bit her lip. She was holding something in – but what that something was, I had no clue.

"No. Not mad at all… Not mad at all….." Her voice grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared. Her eyes, too, looked lower and lower until they were busy studying her shoes. Snow covered her hair and her shoulders. It brushed past her pale cheeks. She looked cold. And alone. And lost. "Not mad at all. But …don't know. Don't know what's what anymore…" She put her hands on her heart, as if there was something massive and painful throbbing away inside her little chest. And then I remembered something I'd been wanting to say to her for a long time now.

"Liechtenstein. That was very dangerous, what you did. You could have been injured – or killed – had things not gone your way."

"I know… But still. I thought I could escape. Didn't expect them to drug me.."

"That's _not_what I'm talking about!" As my voice echoed across the frozen wasteland of a street we called out neighborhood. I finally realized – _I_was the one who was mad. Not her. "I was so worried. I'm so glad that you're alright…. I really am…"

"I'm sorry, Norway… I'm so sorry…!"

"Oh… don't cry now, okay? If they find out that I made my Guest cry, I'm sure they're going to do something really bad to me…" Liechtenstein smiled then, and slowly began wiping the tears from her face. I let out a sigh of relief. "Let's go home and relax, okay? I'm totally exhausted – how about you?"

"Me too. I'll cook up a nice dinner for you. You deserve it."

"I'd love that… wait a second, right now our place looks like a bomb went off in it…" Oh, for crying out loud, I'd totally forgotten about that. It was going to take all night for us to clean up the mess.

But that was okay. Liechtenstein was going to be at my side. We'd get through it.

Although I would have preferred to eat her undoubtedly delicious dinner and go to sleep forever…


End file.
